Children At Heart
by PhantomPenguin
Summary: With the Mad Hatter as her friend and guardian, Alice must face the trials and tribulations that accompany being a logical soul stranded in an illogical world. Growing up just got a lot more complicated. Inspired by WCMI, but entirely independent.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or references that appear in this story. All I own is the plot. **

I've been playing with this general idea for a few months now, and I am finally satisfied with the opening chapter. Strange though it may sound, I've made it one of my resolutions for the New Year to post and complete this within the year. I have an awful track record of procrastination, so I need a little extra motivation now and then. I must credit the origins of this story to WCMI, as it is the sole reason I even became interested in this fandom in the first place. The story is meant to be entirely separate from the WCMI universe, but you may catch a few references/tributes to the comic.

Alice is twelve at the beginning of this story, so we'll all happily go with the book age (seven) for her initial visits to Wonderland, mkay? Chapters will be as long or as short as I choose, but will probably average out to be around four pages. It really just depends. Please read, enjoy, and review! I haven't worked on a long story in ages, so I want to know what works for you and what doesn't. Any constructive criticism will be welcomed with open arms.

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Darkness encompassed Alice, tendrils of icy shadow sliding against her skin. An empty sea of darkness enveloped her, any and all light swallowed up by the encroaching gloom. She felt as if she were floating, buoyant against the looming sea of shadow.

Suddenly light flooded her senses, overwhelming eyes that had only just adjusted to the darkness. She felt firm ground beneath her feet once more and staggered, swaying on wobbly legs as she attempted to reorient herself. Her feet squelched as mud and water flooded into her shoes to saturate her stockings and pool between her toes, and her face contorted in disgust as the icy water seeped through the thin material of her stockings. Shuddering, she drew her foot out of the puddle and shook off the excess mud, glaring down at the offending pooled precipitation. As she did so, she noticed something peculiar: that wasn't the puddle from in front of her house…

With dawning wonder, Alice slowly raised her gaze from the puddle to her surroundings, taking in the wide, spacey clearing in which she stood. The air was chilled, heavy with thick drops of precipitation that had yet to fall, and morose grey clouds hung low in the autumn sky—it seemed England was not the only place to be experiencing dismal, rainy weather. Even the long table in the center of the clearing was damp--though, the dishes had seemingly escaped the deluge and sat unsoiled and dry on the sodden table cloth.

"Wonderland," she breathed, relaxing muscles she hadn't known were tense. "I'm in Wonderland." This was simultaneously a relief and an annoyance to Alice. On one hand, she hadn't been randomly transported to the middle of Who-Knows-Where, but she _had _landed in the most improbable and irritating place she had ever known.

Alice sighed and stepped towards the table—and grimaced, her foot promptly sinking into another icy pool of water. Her puddle was seemingly not alone in the open garden, its brethren scattered liberally about the grass and sitting comfortably among the homes they had carved out for themselves during earlier deluges. Thick mud carpeted the ground, its seasoning of grass and leaves creating a lovely soupy mess beneath the thin layer of rainwater.

Wryly, Alice yanked her foot out of the puddle and smoothed out her skirts, carefully searching for any errant water clinging to her clothes. Miraculously, only the hem of her cloak had sustained any substantial soaking, and she marveled at the unusual consideration taken by whatever force it was that transported her back and forth between Wonderland and her very own England.

Her first trip to the bizarre land, of course, had been through the rabbit hole; the second, through the looking glass. Following such forays,—befuddled, bemused, and completely and totally _lost_—Alice had sworn off of Wonderland completely, vowing that she would never again return to that uncooperative and improbable land.

Her thoughts, however, had ignored her resolutions, and she had found her mind wandering quite frequently to memories of those golden afternoons. She dreamed of playing croquet with flamingos, tea with the Hatter and Hare, and, sometimes (but only when she really needed a pick-me-up) she dreamt of taking some shears to those darned flowers. The half-memories and imaginings circulated throughout her head for years, teetering on the brink of improbable and forgettable.

They nevertheless remained, and began to slowly filter back into her head as Alice grew older and more rebellious of her prim and proper lifestyle. It had only been logical, then, that she eventually had returned to Wonderland, and not long after her twelfth birthday, Alice had found herself opening the gate in front of her house and closing the gate to the March Hare's garden.

Recollections of previous visits with the two characters at the tea table swam to the forefront of her mind, and she remembered how, on that initial return, she had prepared herself for the worst. Braced for a barrage of insults and bizarre half-truths, she had been shocked to find that the Hatter and Hare had proven to be cordial and polite, even offering her a steaming cup of tea (though, of course, she ended up not drinking a drop of it). Alice's initial shock at their civility had worn away after the first few moments, however, and had been replaced by a wry understanding as she realized that the pair fluctuated quite regularly from affable and good-humored to insolent and sarcastic.

In her older age, which she felt was quite old indeed, she had been able to step back and truly see the companions for what they were—great friends who loved to have fun and cared little, it had seemed to her, for anything else.

This suited Alice quite well, and the three (as well as the Dormouse) had quickly settled into a quite comfortable routine. On those days where the Hatter and his long-eared companion were feeling loquacious and jovial, Alice would sit back and enjoy civil, intelligent conversation with the man and his friend (punctuated though it was, of course, by lewd humor and puns of both the subtle and not-so-subtle variety). When it came into the tea-ridden companions' heads (and particularly the Hatter's) to be difficult, Alice took the bit between her teeth and met the eccentric hat maker head on, parrying his every insult and sarcastic remark with one of her own; she saw it as a time to sharpen her own wit, and, though she never admitted it even to herself, she enjoyed those encounters at least as much as any where he was to be considered "sociable."

The problem with the Hatter, Alice had decided, was that he was always energetic. Whether they were in a rare moment of agreement or locked in a heated debate over the most random of topics, Alice could never truly identify a moment where the Hatter was not exhibiting some manner of zeal. The man just did not stop. He flew into anything and everything at full speed, the Hare and Alice watching bemusedly from the sidelines as he attempted one nonsensical act after another. Strangely enough, now that she thought about it, the behatted man had been her companion for most of her recent adventures in Wonderland—not that Alice was complaining. On the contrary, whenever the Hatter had been present, things had become much _livelier_than they normally would have been.

Now, six months subsequent to that initial return, Alice found herself in the garden once again. She shifted her weight to the other foot, sliding briefly in the mud to avoid being sucked into it, and turned towards the table, taking stock of the never-ending supply of tea cups and pots. Most unusually, nobody was seated at the table; it seemed that this time she had beaten the Hatter and Hare to the garden. _Which_, she thought to herself, _is only logical as even _I _didn't know that I would be here today_. She frowned at that. That couldn't be right. No, she _never_ quite knew exactly when she would show up in Wonderland, yet the Hatter and Hare were always there waiting.

Shrugging, Alice decided to take advantage of their unusual absence. Stepping around the large puddle that had served as her door into Wonderland, Alice picked her way through the mire that constituted the Hare's garden, stepping delicately between flooded flower beds and submerged patches of grass. She scanned the table, assessing the chairs. _There_. A large, squashy armchair sat at the head of the table, dry despite the morning's deluge. Picking her way over to it, Alice reached out to pull it back from the table.

A hand grasped her shoulder and she jumped, biting back a gasp. Spinning around, Alice glared accusingly at the Hatter, who was diligently fighting back laughter. "That was _not_ nice," she said, scowling mightily at him. Inwardly, she thought some very un-lady-like words. She_ wanted _that tea.

The Hatter lost his battle and let out a loud guffaw. "And yet," he said, chortling, "it was very entertaining."

Alice raised her nose in the air and turned away from him. "Well, if that's how you treat your friends, perhaps I won't be returning anymore." They both knew it was only a diversionary tactic. Inch by inch, she made her way closer to the chair, sliding her feet ever so slowly across the ground.

"As if you could ever stay away from Wonderland," he scoffed, calling her bluff. He slipped around her and planted his bottom in the seat of her chosen chair. "Better luck next time," he said encouragingly as she frowned. "Might I suggest that beautiful specimen over there?" He pointed to the chair to his immediate right. "Walnut, I believe, with a fine finish. Beautiful curvature in the back, intricate designs carved on the legs and back, and—"

Heaving a mighty sigh, Alice sat in the indicated chair. "Yes, yes," she said, cutting her companion off mid-sentence. "You're not selling it to me, you know."

The Hatter quirked an eyebrow. "And how should you know?" he asked. "That is a perfectly acceptable chair. Perhaps I _am _selling it."

Folding her hands primly in her lap, Alice quirked an eyebrow of her own. "Well, seeing how this garden and everything in it belong to our dear friend the March Hare, that doesn't seem far too likely." She met the Hatter's bright gaze with a confident and superior smile.

White-gloved fingers drummed irritably against the tabletop. He really did hate to lose.

"So, where _is_ the March Hare?" Alice spared him the trouble of dredging up a new topic to mask his defeat (for they both knew that's what he would have been doing). She was genuinely curious as well, for she could not really recall a visit where she had not seen the Hare at least once.

"Oh, he had to go in to court today," the Hatter said dismissively, waving a hand in the air. "Something about assisting the Queen with a magic trick. She has it in her head to be a magician at the moment, and you and I both know there's no arguing with that." He nodded sagely.

The wind picked up, sending the sodden leaves shuffling around the clearing. Alice shuddered, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. The dress and accompanying cloak that she wore were appropriate for autumn weather, but the effects of her trip through the puddle had yet to fully wear off and she was still slightly damp around the edges.

China clattered as the Hatter leapt into action, leaning forward and snatching two tea cups from the table. "Oh, forgive me, my dear!" he exclaimed, procuring a pot of steaming tea from seemingly nowhere. "I have been remiss in my duties as host." He busied himself in pouring them both cups of the hot liquid, draining half of his even as he passed the other cup off to Alice.

Alice cradled the teacup in her hands, allowing the warmth of the tea to seep into her chilled fingers. Tentatively, she raised the cup to her lips, eyeing the Hatter carefully from above the rim. The tea sloshed against her lips and she opened her mouth—

"Clean cup!" The Hatter yelped cheerfully, ripping the cup from her grasp and shoving her into the next chair down. "Move down, move down!" He raised what had previously been Alice's tea to his lips and drained it, smacking his lips in satisfaction. His own cup lay half-full at his old place, forgotten. A smug look on his face, he situated himself in the chair (a lovely magenta-tinged dining specimen) beside her, propping his legs up on the table and flinging his arms back behind his head.

Alice rolled her eyes--an expression, she realized, that she had picked up from him. "You really are the rudest individual that I've ever met," she said.

An accomplished expression appeared on his face. "Do you really mean it?" he asked. He tilted his head, peering down at her quizzically, eyes wide and blue and excited. "Do you, Alice, really?" His expression held a hopeful look, and he twiddled his thumbs modestly, waiting for her answer.

Heaving a mighty sigh, Alice propped her right arm on its armrest and rested her head on her hand. "You, Mr. Hatter, are an imbecile."

He threw a hand over his heart. "Such harsh words from a young girl," he lamented, grinning widely at her. "What is the world coming to?"

"I'm afraid it's your fault entirely," Alice said, poking his arm accusingly with a finger from her free hand. "Without your _charming_ influence, I would not be half so inclined to speak my mind. And _don't_ say it," she said sternly, lifting her head up to glare at him as he opened his mouth to reply.

The Hatter set aside his snarky comment for a later date, closing his mouth with an audible click. "Very well," he sighed. "I shall refrain from further influencing you." He snagged a fresh cup of tea from the table, raising it to his lips. "Now, my dear," she said, "how has your mundane life been in the interim between this meeting and our last?"

Indignant, Alice sat up straight and glared at him. "My life is not mundane!" she protested. "If you must know, however, I've been progressing with my education."

"Oh?" The Hatter quirked an eyebrow. "What sort of lessons would you be learning?"

Fabric rustled as Alice fiddled with the pleating in her skirt. "History," she recited, "literature, deportment, art, French—"

"French?" he exclaimed, cutting her off mid-sentence and grinning widely at her. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Alice was expecting just such a question. "I have in the past," she retorted, drumming her fingers on the table, "but you always begin spouting inappropriate euphemisms and vocabulary that I have yet to learn so I have learned to refrain from mentioning the language while in your presence." She nodded emphatically to punctuate her point.

The Hatter eyed her innocently. "Moi? Je n'ai jamais dire ces choses."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Sure you haven't." she said. "My ears have only been graced by countless French expletives and innuendos over the past few months. But, obviously, I couldn't have heard such language from _you_." She practically oozed sarcasm.

"Ah, but that's your fault for being able to understand them."

Alice's mouth opened and closed a few times as her brain furiously attempted to churn out a response. With none forthcoming, she settled for a petulant scowl.

Leaning forward, the Hatter poured himself yet another cup of tea and smiled indulgently at Alice. "You see?" he said smugly. "Yet more proof that I am superior to you. Silence speaks volumes, Alice. Always remember that."

It seemed to Alice that arguing with the man would prove fruitless, so she did the only thing she knew would distract him: she changed the subject. "So," she began, eyeing their soggy surroundings, "it seems you've been having some wet weather lately."

Any connoisseur of conversation (or lack thereof, depending) knows that talking about the weather is the oldest trick in the book, so naturally the Hatter saw straight through Alice's tactics. Nevertheless, he humored her valiant attempt at masking her defeat. "We have indeed!" he replied, sweeping a few loose strands of white hair out of his face. "In fact, today is the first relatively dry day that we have had in nearly a week."

A water-laden brown leaf chose that moment to detach itself from one of the overhanging trees, following the pull of gravity and landing on Alice's upturned face with a soggy _smack_. Grimacing, she plucked it off, holding it between her thumb and forefinger and eyeing it distastefully. "I can believe that," she said, flicking the leaf to the side.

The Hatter nodded, not even trying to conceal his grin. "Indeed."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Alice nibbling on some warm crumpets while her companion worked his way through yet another pot of tea procured—if she were correct in her observations—from the sleeve of his coat.

"You know," the Hatter said casually, initiating the next step of conversation, "I don't believe we've ever really talked about how you get here."

Alice looked up from where she had been gazing absently into the distance, shocked that her companion would pick such a commonplace topic of conversation. As her mind caught up to her, however, she quickly revised that thought; nothing about Wonderland was ever humdrum or boring.

"Well," she began, thinking about it, "I don't really know myself. I've never come the same way twice, you see." She sat for a minute in silence. "I suppose," she said finally, "that it has something to do with my thoughts. I've only ever really come to Wonderland when I've wanted to, or when I've been longing to get away from England for a bit."

Intrigued, the Hatter leaned closer to Alice. "Is that so?" he asked. "I've always wondered, you see, for you always seem to appear at the most opportune occasions. Either the Hare or myself will be pining for company, or commenting on our excess of teatime commodities, and then there you go popping out of puddles and falling out of trees, solving all of our problems at once. And," he added, almost as an afterthought, "you have turned into a very clever little thing, Alice."

"How bizarre," Alice murmured.

"Bizarre?" The Hatter exclaimed. "Hardly, my dear girl! Is it really so strange that your company should be appreciated?"

"Well, actually, _yes,_" Alice said, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the affronted expression on the Hatter's face. "Not that, though" she corrected solemnly. "What you said before—about my coming to Wonderland always being at convenient intervals."

"Of _course_ that's what you were talking about." He waved a hand flippantly in her direction, pushing his hat back with the other. "And it's far from bizarre. Wonderland always knows best."

Alice was dubious. "_Wonderland_ knows best?" she repeated dubiously.

"Yup."

Alice slid her chair back from the table and stood up, sliding in the slick sheen of mud that still coated the ground. Their conversation was waning, and she had just remembered that a most delightful little novel was sitting on her bedside table waiting to be read. "Hopefully, then, Wonderland will know that it is time for me to be getting home."

The Hatter rose as well. "Must you leave?" he asked petulantly. "I'll be all alone again."

Alice scoffed. "I'll be back soon," she said. "All good things must eventually come to an end, and besides, I've been spending nearly as much time here as I have at home. I can almost assure you that I shall return soon."

The Hatter could not argue with this logic, and sensing a sort of defeat, he peered quizzically up at the sky in search of a distraction. "I do believe it is going to rain again," he remarked.

The sky had grown dark throughout the course of their conversation, the pliant grey clouds molding together to form an impressive, ominous dark _thing_ that hovered above them. Leaves fell from the nearby trees, stirred by a wind that was strong enough to move them even in their bloated states.

Shivering, Alice drew her cloak tighter around herself. "I believe you are right," she said. She took a few hesitant steps away from the table, scanning the ground for her particular puddle. Soon after her renewed voyages to Wonderland, Alice had discovered that the easiest way to depart was simply to leave the same way that she had arrived. To do it any other way was to have her departure method and time lost in the world of the unknown, as she had learned upon her initial return; unsure of how to return home, Alice had sat at tea with the mad duo for an impressive amount of time, and etiquette and propriety had slowly dissolved until Alice and her newfound companions had found themselves playing a rousing game of Seek-and-go-Hide. It was only when Alice was seconds away from winning, of course, that she had flung open the gate and reappeared in her own world.

Every trip since, she had made a point of remembering her point of entry so that she could leave when she so chose.

"Aaaaalice!" The Hatter skidded up to her then, using his large shoes as a sort of ski. "Look what I can do!" He took a running start and then froze, his momentum sending him flying across the top of the mud and water. "Would you care to join me?" he asked breathlessly. "It's very fun!"

"I think not!" Alice's sense of impropriety, overshadowed as it was by years of etiquette and proper behavior, could only extend so far. "You really are mad," she said, hiding a grin as he hydroplaned past her. "For some reason, though, I keep coming back... Now, help me find this puddle." She scanned the ground intently.

Stopping his antics and flicking the mud from his spats with a mildly disgusted look, the Hatter strode over to his young companion. "Very well," he said sighing. "Leave me alone once more. I understand."

Alice waved away his attempt at drudging up sympathy. "I'm glad," she said, giving him a saccharine smile. "I'll be back before you know it." Her feet sped up as she spotted her quarry. "Thank you very much for the tea, even though I didn't get any." If there was any sarcasm in her tone, it was hidden beneath good breeding and manners that had been driven into her since birth.

"You're very welcome," he replied, amused at her politeness. "Come back soon so that you can not have any tea once more."

Alice nodded. "I shall." She stood poised on the edge of the puddle, eying it intently. With a small wave in the Hatter's direction, she hopped into the murky water. The resulting splash was far larger than it should have been, for Alice was light and the puddle was far from deep.

The water took much longer to return to the ground than it should have. The notable lack of a splash drew the Hatter's attention, and he whipped his head around to stare confusedly at the falling drops of water. They shimmered and then dulled, camofluaged among the muted grey of the sky. He frowned in consternation--that had never happened before--and then blinked decidedly hard.

Standing there, drenched to the core and looking this way and that, was Alice.

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I'm very excited about this for a number of reasons, and I'm curious to see what others think the idea of the story. If you feel so inclined, please review! I'd love some opinions and critiques (or compliments. Compliments are always nice).

I have no idea exactly how long I will make this, and I don't have a specific ending planned out yet, but I _do_ have the entire second chapter written, as well as outlines for a few more. This concept of organization is going to kill me, but I'll try my best to stay on top of everything and not lag behind in updating.

Reviews are lovely!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own only the plot.**

Second chapter up within two or so weeks...not bad for me! Hopefully it will not disappoint. Thanks to everybody who reviewed the last chapter! Keep them coming--I love to hear what you think!

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Alice sat cross-legged on the ground. Her dress was torn and dirtied, her hair knotted and tangled and curling messily about her face, yet she didn't care in the least. And really, why should she? As far as she knew, she was trapped in Wonderland for an indefinite amount of time. Who was going to say anything about her appearance—the flowers?

Idly, she played with the hem of her dress, her gaze distant and distracted. So caught up in her thoughts was Alice that she didn't even notice when the Hatter flipped his overlarge hat into the air, performed a spectacular cartwheel, and landed in just the position where the hat would fall back to its natural home atop his head. Distraught as she was, Alice saw none of this. "Why can't I go home?" If she sounded whinier than she intended, well, it had been a long and trying day. Alice and the Hatter had been seeking a pathway back to England ever since Alice's initial attempt had failed, trying everything they could think of (even going so far as to leaving a dent in the March Hare's floor-length mirror) to get Alice home—yet nothing had worked.

The Hatter, always full of creative (and impractical) ideas, had wracked his brains for a solution to Alice's problem. As per his moments of inspiration, he and Alice had run all across Wonderland searching for Alice's proverbial ticket home, appealing to the Queen of Hearts (who had offered to see if separating Alice's head from her body would hasten the girl's departure from Wonderland), cajoling the kindly Gryphon into carrying Alice across the sea (he had turned back after a few hundred meters, citing the Mock Turtle's loneliness as an excuse), and even hoisting Alice up on the Hatter's shoulders to peer over Humpty Dumpty's wall (they had scarpered when the wall had begun to wobble).

In his quest to be kind and helpful (partially because he was bored, and partially because he truly did care), the Hatter had suggested numerous ideas and theories on the topic of Alice's dilemma, ranging from the implausible to the downright ridiculous. Desperate, Alice had dutifully attempted all but the last and impossible.

Now, however, her companion's seemingly bottomless well of suggestions had run dry, and Alice sighed, propping her cheek up on her hand. "I need to get home..." She stared dejectedly at the ground, thinking longingly of her family's house in the English countryside. She speculated that it would be just past ten o'clock in England and sighed heavily once more. She had planned settle down in the library that morning and read—at least until her errant thoughts had whisked her away to Wonderland in the first place.

Truth be told, the Hatter was as perplexed as his young friend. Every time prior to this one she had been able to leave at will, the pathway between Wonderland and England having some convenient, innate sense of Alice's travelling needs. Of course, he had no idea how it worked, and if he were to be quite honest, he didn't think _anyone_ truly knew.

Normally, Alice had only to consider the notion of going home and she would arrive back in England, her family and friends none the wiser. They had always just chalked it up to Wonderland's bizarre nature and irregularities. It seemed though that this time Alice, for all points and purposes, was trapped in Wonderland. Her usual methods of transportation had failed her, and she and the Hatter had covered every _un_usual method as well. What else was there to try? They had gone to all of the locations from which Alice had previously departed, had met with nearly every possible denizen of Wonderland who could possibly assist them in their quest…

He pondered her predicament absentmindedly, one half of his mind dedicated solely to searching for a solution (the other half enmeshed in the question of whether or not a watched pot truly boils).

Chessboard? No, that had only led them in circles and trapped them in the midst of a violent battle between pawns. The White Knight? Definitely not; his mechanical gizmo (that metallic thing that cooked bread) had nearly left a toast-shaped imprint in Alice's head. _Maybe if I pretend to blink it would trick the water into thinking I wasn't looking…_ The Cheshire Cat? Well, they had accosted him, but all they had received by way of reply was that infernal grin and a disappearing act.

An idea occured to the Hatter then, a wonderfully brilliant and ingenious and dastardly clever idea (if he did say so himself). "Of course!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Alice," he said, squatting down to look at her, "'let's call on the Caterpillar! More often than not he has the best advice around here, and we haven't been by his neck of the woods yet. What do you say?"

Alice considered it for a minute. It was a better suggestion than most, and certainly _much_ safer sounding than any of his previous ideas. Shrugging, she stood and dusted herself off, offering him her arm. "Very well, then," she said, looking up at him. "Let's go see the Caterpillar."

Alice in tow, the Hatter turned and began to stride along down the worn dirt path. "Oh—" He paused, spinning back around to face her. "I forgot. We need to be quite a lot smaller, don't we?" He eyed the grass carefully. "Now, if you were some sort of size-changing, edible something, where would you be?"

Rolling her eyes, Alice bent down to help him look. "Really, Mr. Hatter, doesn't Wonderland have some sort of rule for that sort of thing?"

An amused laugh escaped him. "Wonderland _has _no rules," he said, gently combing his fingers through the grass. "I thought you would know that by now." As if to emphasize his point, the makings of a small tree sprouted in between them, budding up from beneath the earth and shooting up around his outstretched hand. Branches unfolded, leaves sprung into being and twined around his fingers, and quite soon a decent-sized little seedling sat firmly rooted between them.

"Aha!" the Hatter exclaimed delightedly. "Here we are!"

Much to Alice's irritation (or that of her logical side, at least), the Hatter appeared to be correct. Two green berries no larger than her thumbnail sat nestled amid a thick cluster of leaves just below Alice's eyelevel. She leaned in close to the tree, her nose brushing the springy green leaves, and peered intently at the little berries. "Well," she said somewhat snappishly, eyeing the tree disapprovingly, "shall we go then?"

"But of course!" The Hatter brightly replied, all but dragging her away from the tree. He snatched the size-changing fruits and tossed one to Alice, laughing as she barely managed to raise one hand fast enough to catch it. They pocketed the berries for later (for why make a long walk even longer?) and set off to the Tulgy Woods.

This was how Alice and her companion, who were now exactly three inches tall, found themselves standing before the Caterpillar's mushroom. The unremarkable fungus had remained the same since Alice's last visit, as had the Caterpillar himself. He sat on the spotted cap, hookah in hand, gazing eruditely up at the strange pair. "Aha," he said quietly under his breath. "I was expecting you."

"You were?" Alice tilted her head to the side, peering up at him in confusion. "But we only just decided to call."

The Caterpillar inhaled a lungful of smoke from his hookah. "I've been hearing wild tales all afternoon," he exposited, "of a young blonde girl and her mad, white-haired companion dashing about Wonderland as if pursued by the some sort of hellhound. In fact," he looked up at them curiously, "I do believe the Tweedles came by not long before with a tale of seeing you, Alice, climbing out of a rather large hole in a tree."

At this, Alice shot the Hatter an annoyed look, and he raised his hands defensively. "How was I supposed to know there were only bees in that particular oak?" he asked, spreading his arms out in a helpless gesture. "There could have been a portal to England in there, for all we knew."

"But there wasn't." Alice pursed her lips. "There were only bees—and very territorial bees, at that."

The smallest twinkle appeared in bright blue eyes. "Well, even you," he pointed at her accusingly, "must admit that the situation was rather humorous."

Opening her mouth in indignation, Alice checked herself and shifted instead to address the Caterpillar. "The reason we are here," she said, shooting a dark look at the Hatter, "is that I cannot seem to get back to England and my family. We thought that perhaps you, being so full of information, could help." Alice fixed the Caterpillar with a desperate stare, her melancholic expression silently begging him to be able to supply a solution.

"Ah…" the Caterpillar sighed heavily. "I thought it might be such. I hate to be the one to say this, dear child," he said, addressing Alice, "but you may never go home."

Silence hung heavily in the air, a stagnant blanket smothering all who fell under its stifling cover. Alice stared at the Caterpillar, her eyes wide and unseeing. A terrible pallor swept across her face, and she trembled violently. Alarmed, the Hatter grasped her shoulder, his firm grip the only thing keeping her from collapsing. "I can't…go home?" she repeated haltingly. Her slim arms wrapped around her body, forcing herself to remain upright.

The Caterpillar gazed at Alice solemnly, taking a deep draw from his hookah. "You can never go home, child," he repeated, looking up at her long and hard. "The way is shut."

Alice remained stock still, reeling in shock. Her mind worked frantically, trying to find some way to disprove the ancient and erudite insect. Finding none, she stared blankly into the distance, blinking rapidly and mouthing words indecipherable to even herself. "Is it because I've stayed too long, visited places I should not have? Should I never have come back?" she finally asked, turning her attention to the Caterpillar. "Have I broken any rules of Wonderland, ignored some regulation?"

"It is nothing you have done, dear girl," he replied, "but rather what you haven't. The way between your world and ours was created by your imagination. It was kept stable by your dreams, held in check by the force of your thoughts, and by memories and thoughts of a world that you believed irrational and fantastic. This world, to be exact."

Alice looked at him confusedly. "But, I _still _think that," she said, a slight tremor in her voice. "Nothing here is as it should be…you shouldn't be able to talk, flamingos should not be croquet mallets, I _never_ seem to get any tea…."

Slowly, the Caterpillar shook his head back and forth. "It doesn't work like that," he said. "Every day you spend here, every hour you spend in the company of a Wonderlander, warps your perception of the world—both yours and ours. What was once absurd and illogical is now commonplace and reasonable. What you once viewed as imagination becomes fact, and without your willingness to deny Wonderland's absurdities, the bridge between our worlds has disintegrated. So long as you kept a clear distinction between your world and ours, you could travel freely between the two."

The Hatter spoke for the first time, staring down at the distraught girl with a peculiar mix of pity and guilt. "So it is because she has spent so much time here that Alice is trapped?" he inquired, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. The hand on Alice's shoulder tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Indeed. Our world has become hers, at least in part, and therefore she has accepted what she once did not. She trades insults with flowers quite readily, discusses philosophy with the Cheshire Cat, converses and readily engages in conversation with _you_—none of which she once did." He returned his attention to Alice. "You may not go home, Alice, because Wonderland _is_ your home. It has become your reality, and England a figment of your imagination."

It was in a horribly ironic situation that Alice found herself: because she had finally accepted Wonderland's existence, her own world—her home—now ceased to exist for her, locked away beyond her reach.

"I—" she broke off, shaking her head furiously and looking at the ground. "Where do I go?" she asked brokenly. "What do I do?"

The Caterpillar looked at her. "I do not know." he said. He inhaled deeply, flabby blue flanks expanding, and exhaled a thick cloud of noxious smoke that swept over to engulf his two visitors.

Wrinkling his nose, the Hatter waved away the toxic haze and decided that it was time to go. Informative though he may have been, the Caterpillar was not the most empathetic of individuals. He had a habit of being callous and distant, and such a lack of emotion was something that the Hatter knew Alice could not handle at the current moment. He executed a slight bow in the direction of the mushroom, keeping a mild grip on Alice's shoulder. "I thank you," he said seriously to the Caterpillar, "for your information. Now," he looked worriedly over at Alice, "we must go." He gently took hold of Alice's other shoulder, steering her away from the lonely mushroom.

They regained their normal sizes easily enough, snagging a small piece of mushroom each as they departed. Carefully, the Hatter led Alice over the leaf-strewn path in the sprawling woods, guiding the emotionless girl around obstructions and through the seemingly endless labyrinth of trees.

Abruptly, Alice halted in the middle of the path, tears welling up in her eyes as everything that had transpired finally caught up with her; thoughts could only be held at bay for so long, and negative thoughts for even less. Tears streamed down Alice's face, the salty liquid rolling down her cheeks in synchronization with her unsteady breaths.

The Hatter ran a hand through his white hair, trademark hat clutched in the opposite hand. She wasn't supposed to _cry._ Heavens, he hadn't had to deal with a weeping female since that bewildering brunette a few years ago! He shifted uneasily from foot to foot, mind troubled and heart hurting. Tears in Wonderland were not uncommon—far from it, in fact—but he had never been thrown into a situation with a hysterical child before. He wasn't sure that he liked it.

"Alice," he began, not unkindly. The blonde shook her head furiously, cutting him off before he could say anything. "I don't believe it," she sniffed, tears trailing down between her fisted hands. "I _won't_." Her voice was thick with repressed emotion.

A small frown appeared on the Hatter's face and he paced around the path, obviously unsure of what to do. It had finally occurred to him why such a situation hurt him so: he didn't want to see Alice upset. More often than not she adopted a prim and proper Victorian attitude, but she was also a curious and engaging child, within whom, he would wager, beat the heart of an adventuress and plague upon the stricter edicts of society. They had connected in their absurdity, her logic a firm negation to his insanity, Alice decrying his cutting (as well as bizarre) remarks even as he did the same to hers.

_Well, damn_," he thought. Conversations and tea were well and good, but an emotional attachment? Friendship with this girl, a connection with this irritating, disgustingly proper, _blonde_ English child? He let out a gusty sigh, shoulders slumping forward and face falling almost comically. He was in for it now.

"I…" he fiddled with his hat distractedly, knowing that anything he said would be ineffective. "I'm so sorry, dear girl." He tried again, this time meeting her miserable blue eyes with his own. "There's nothing that can be done."

"No!" she cried, as if hearing him say it was the final confirmation, the severance of her one last string of hope.

The emotion laced within that single word was enough to break his heart and draw his mind completely away from tea and other distractions, and something in the back of his mind wondered why he cared so much. He _shouldn't _care so much; she should just be another child, another individual whom he could happily ignore as he existed in his own world. The problem was, though, that she wasn't. She _wasn't_ just someone whose problems he could laugh about with the March Hare as they took their tea. She wasn't a greedy and rude child, like so many others were. She wasn't just a nameless individual from another world and another time who had stumbled into Wonderland.

She was Alice, and she was different.

All of the color left Alice's face, slowly draining away to leave her ashen and shaking. Tears rolled freely down her face, the great drops of salty liquid carving tracks through the collected grime of the day. Arms crossed in front of her, she held herself, the stance making her appear far younger than her twelve years. "No," she whispered, voice raw. She shook her head, eyes glazed and staring numbly at the ground. "No." In that single moment every defense shattered, breaking into miniscule and irreparable pieces, and left her a huddled and empty form—and far more vulnerable than she had ever been in her life.

A white-gloved hand reached down and grasped her chin, gently wiping away the tears. "Don't cry, my dear." Comfort was not his forte. He was sarcastic, he was humorous, witty; he was _mad_, and yet—he knelt down before her in the dirt, oblivious to the soil that stained the knees of his trousers and the grime that had begun to collect on his gloves. "It will be alright, somehow." His voice was soft, encouraging, and so unlike its normally buoyant and cheerful tone that she found herself slowly raising her eyes to his.

It is a strange feeling when one's body movies of its own accord, follows some ingrained and subconscious thought that directs it—almost as if it knows what is best for the itself when the brain is shut down. Alice found her eyes flickering up to catch his even as her emotions screamed at her to look down, to close her eyes and lock herself away from the world.

They shared a look then, Alice slanting her eyes upwards to stare into the Hatter's youthful face. Young eyes met old, and Alice knew then that he would be there for her no matter what happened. She couldn't say how she knew, and in the state of mind that currently dominated her consciousness she couldn't even say that she _knew_—but somehow she did. Something deep inside of her was able to recognize some sign, some inherent truth that had been laying in stasis, just waiting to be discovered.

Tentatively, Alice stepped toward him and stopped an arm's length away. She had no way home; therefore, she had no family, no friends, no pets. She no longer had her books or her toys, her clothes or her dolls. She had no money, and she had no home.

She had only the Hatter—the Hatter, and whatever else Wonderland had to offer.

They exchanged another long look, Alice fighting back the tears and thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her, the Hatter hurting and awkward as he knelt nearby, a witness to her inner struggle. Thoughts streamed past one another at rapid paces, clamoring to be noticed, but Alice ignored them. She did, however, spare a fleeting moment to wonder why the Hatter cared, _why_ he was willing to comfort her, to be there for her when no one else was. What made her special? She caught his eyes, gazing at him with a look that seemed to pierce his very soul, and realized that he was asking himself the very same question.

A barrier between them broke then, and Alice flung herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. "I want to go home," she sobbed, allowing herself to finally emote in full. "I want to see Mother, and Father, and Lorina, and Dinah…" She wept into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The Hatter wrapped his arms around Alice's small frame, whispering comforting words of nonsense to her as she cried. He supported as she sagged into him, her pillar of strength in her moment of weakness.

Eventually, Alice exhausted her supply of tears, her sobs diminishing into dry, heaving breaths and the occasional sniffle. Head resting against the soft fabric of the Hatter's inexorably orange overcoat, Alice allowed her eyes to drift closed. The day's events had caught up to her, trampled her, and then had abandoned her, leaving her fatigued and mentally bruised. The Hatter felt her tense muscles loosen, sensed her slow transition from overwrought to relaxed and he held her tighter, his embrace providing the contact that she so desperately needed.

His eyes were the only part of him to show any emotion, their icy blue coloring a clear sign of the pain he felt for the child in his arms. As he held Alice, held the lost little girl who could never go home, he experienced the same epiphany that Alice had already discerned from his face: no matter what happened, no matter how they both changed, he knew he would never leave her.

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A bit more drama and emotion in this chapter, but it had to be done (and I'll admit it was rather fun to write). Now that the basics of the story have been covered, we may move on to the fun part: the plot and random interactions. Huzzah!

As always, please review! Any feedback is better than none, and better chapters will be forthcoming if I know what works for you and what doesn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I only own the plot.**

Here's to progress, dear readers! I'm readjusting to actually having to update regularly, but I think I've been doing pretty well so far. I would like to send out a huge thank you to all who have reviewed. Your ego-boosting comments and compliments are what keep this poor writer going!

* * *

It seemed to the Hatter, looking back as he guided Alice through the darkening trail, that he had had absolutely no choice in the matter. Really, the whole ordeal was quite unfair, for who _else_ in Wonderland would have opened their home to Alice under such short notice? Well—the Hare would, but as he wasn't around to offer… Mentally heaving a great, long-suffering sigh and bidding a fond farewell to his mundane lifestyle and current schedule (and conveniently forgetting that he never had either to begin with), the Hatter led Alice along the wooded path towards his house.

Alice, for her part, had been far too fatigued to offer much protest; after eyeing him suspiciously (for even in her distress she had not forgotten days of "practical" jokes, bad puns, and full-fledged arguments) she had nodded tiredly, stumbling off down the path once more, his guiding hand planted firmly at the small of her back.

And, now, an exhausted Alice found herself being propelled through the door of the Hatter's not-so-humble abode—all of three-and-a-half stories tall, fitted with two turrets, a drawbridge, a moat, and a suspiciously ticking crocodile—eyes blurring at the explosion of color and life. Too tired to take full stock of his house, she caught only snatches of rooms as he all but carried her up the stairs. A flash of black marble, plum, and peach—the kitchen. A startlingly large, open, chartreuse room, a low-ceilinged lounge of a startling magenta—Alice blinked, and they were past.

"It's just down the hall from my own quarters," the Hatter told her, ushering her down a long hallway speckled with doors. "That way, I'll be nearby if you need me." It was one of the nicer statements Alice had ever heard the man emit, and he promptly ruined it by adding with a grin, "And, I'll have an easier time…checking up on you."

After hearing such a statement (and seeing the grin with which it was delivered), Alice promptly forgot her exhaustion and, upon arriving at her designated room, checked and double-checked the lock on the door; the last thing she wanted was to wake up to frogs in her bed. She barely glanced at the walls (a delicate lavender), her gaze immediately drawn to the comfortable-looking bed in the corner. As she settled herself into it, the day's events caught up to her full force and her eyelids fluttered. Her last sight before her exhaustion overcame her was the Hatter leaning against the edge of the doorframe and eyeing her with a contemplative half-smirk.

Seeing Alice doze off, the Hatter gazed about the room, eyeing it speculatively. He had some redecorating to do…

The next morning, Alice awoke to a room that, while it was still _technically_ the same, appeared completely different. The previously-barren shelves were stocked with books, the walls adorned with pictures and all sorts of eccentric designs. There were paintings of bread-and-butterflies, a large, ornate map of the chessboard, bright and colorful gizmos and doodads for which she had no name, and even a small, stuffed purple squirrel that was perched happily on her dresser.

She had to give the Hatter credit: it was a cozy room. Spacious and inviting, it was large enough to hold a bed, two bookshelves (which Alice noticed with great delight), a desk, a sizeable wardrobe, and even a few shelves for her nonexistent belongings. She noticed the slapdash and haphazard way the books were strewn across the shelf, and distantly wondered how long the Hatter had been at his late-night redecorating.

Catching sight of the other aspects of his redecorating, she made a wry face. He _would_ find a way to include tea in her décor—she had already been expecting that. What she had not been expecting was the miniature fountain of tea that sat, of all places, on her ceiling, burbling and bubbling and defying every natural wall that she could think of. Alice gaped at it for a good minute or so, watching as tea splashed happily above her head, tantalizingly close but never falling.

Lilac walls surrounded Alice, their fragile purple contrasting sharply to the garish yellow of the molding. Alice shook her head. Questionable color combinations were just one of the things one came to expect from the Hatter, and after the tea fountain she felt prepared for anything. Still, the overall effect was strangely pleasing. Sighing, Alice crossed the room to stare out one of the three windows. She was just in time to spot the Hatter dashing off across the front yard on some undisclosed errand of special import. "I wonder where he's going at such an early hour," she mused, pressing her face against the glass.

As she stood in her new, unfamiliar room, Alice became overwhelmed by the reality of her situation. The crushing realization that she could never go home smacked into her like a ton of bricks, and she tensed, staring unseeingly out of her window. The view outside was vibrant and green, displaying with great intensity the life and eccentricities of the Tulgy Wood, but she saw none of it. Alice saw only her memories. She saw only what she would never see again—the bright English countryside, her friends, her family.

_This_ was her home now.

Now, Alice belonged to the world of the improbable. Alice was a part of all of the improbability, the bizarre occurrences, and the illogical and circular conversations. Alice was a part of Wonderland now.

The cozy, vibrant room seemed to dull, the warm sunlight streaming through the windows turning a wasted grey and the vibrancy of the walls fading until they were a washed out white. Sinking to her knees, Alice stared down dully at the knotted rug on which she sat. Her fingers grasped at the thick material, bunched and fisted it, squeezing and squeezing it as if to completely obliterate it from all existence.

Despite her natural intelligence, her precocious attitude and perpetual cheerfulness, Alice was nevertheless still a child. She still suffered from a child's emotions, a child's simple love of life and familiarity. Alice sat in the floor of her room and stared around with a trembling face, lips quivering and eyes watering. The nonsensical titles of the books on the shelf leered at her, once again driving home the point that she was not in England any longer—that she would never be in England again.

"I'm not going home," Alice said slowly, fighting back her tears. "I _can't_ go home." She familiarized herself with the words, speaking them aloud for the first time. "England does not exist anymore," she murmured. "Not for me." She stood up and crossed the room to the bookshelf, running her fingers along thick spines. "_This _is my home now." Her voice was soft, and she drew away from the bookshelf, turning and sending sweeping glance around the room. Slowly the room seemed to brighten, sunlight pouring through the windows to highlight the cheerful (if bizarre) colors of the room.

Alice allowed herself to flop onto the bed, staring up at the mercifully-white ceiling. A long suffering groan escaped her lips. Everything was moving so quickly; she had no idea what she was going to do, where she was going to permanently live, _how_ she was going to live. "One day at a time," she said firmly. "That's all I can do."

A sharp rap at her door cut through the relative silence of the house, jerking her away from her thoughts survival. "Alice?" It seemed the Hatter had returned. "Are you done being morose and depressed, or should I come back later?" His voice was light and joking, but there was a hint of gravity in the question as well.

Alice gaped at the door. It seemed the man knew her quite more than she thought. Eventually, she regained her powers of speech and strode across the room to open the door. "No, no," she said, the thick sarcasm in her voice masking her previous confusion, "I'm done bawling my eyes out for today."

"Oh, I'm so glad." He swept into the room, his alert gaze taking in the rumpled sheets and chaotic state of organization. "You _were _upset," he accused, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "Alice…"

"I'm fine." Her firm tone cut off any protestations he was about to make. "Really. Now," she said with forced cheer, "what was it that you wanted?"

He stared at her for a moment, analyzing her composure, and then came crashing back down to reality. "Ah. Yes. Well, I've been asking around to find you a place to stay. I know you would much prefer to live on your own—be independent, and all that good jazz—but I think it would be best for you to stay with a local for the time being, at least long enough for you to understand Wonderland's rules."

Alice frowned. "I thought Wonderland didn't _have_ rules," she said.

Pausing halfway through his elucidation, the Hatter conjured up a frown of his own. "There are rules, my dear, and there are _rules_. Wonderland certainly has no rules, but _rules_ it has by the dozen."

Silence. Alice blinked once, twice, her mind wrapping around that concept. Her mouth opened, and then she thought some more and closed it. "Well," she said finally, "what kind of _rules_ are there?"

The Hatter chose that moment to develop selective hearing, and continued on with his one-sided discussion of Alice's future in Wonderland. "Now," he said, "you are going to have to find someone you trust to live with. You're here for now, but I understand if you'd rather go somewhere els—"

Alice cut him off. "Why would I go somewhere else?" she asked, hurt. "Do you not want me to stay with you?"

Wide eyed, he stood up very straight, head cocked. "Do _you _want you to stay with me?" he asked.

Alice nodded. "Yes," she said softly, "I do. You're the best friend I have in Wonderland."

They both paused to marvel at that for a few minutes, thinking back to early encounters where they could do nothing but argue. "Don't go getting all smug, though," Alice said. "I still can't stand you."

"Of course not."

"You irritate me to no end."

"Likewise."

"Don't even begin to think I'll respect you enough to obey you, like I would my parents."

"As if I would ever want your respect anyway."

"Good." Alice stepped back. "I'll stay."

They soon settled into a comfortable routine that involved many conversations, arguments, wild escapades, frogs (because he just couldn't resist), and a large amount of tea. And, Alice being Alice, the Hatter's bizarre house was soon subjected to a rather thorough (but guided) exploration. The Hatter led her through room after room, pointing out odd fixtures and unusual stories in each and every one.

"And this," the Hatter announced grandly, sweeping open a heavy carved door no less than fifteen feet high, "is mon bibliothèque. Entre, regarde, lit."

Alice was so overcome by the enormous room that she didn't even comment on his sporadic French. "This is all yours?" she asked, mouth ajar.

He nodded smugly. "It is. Finest collection of books in nearly all of Wonderland. You are most welcome to make use of it. Oh," he said, remembering, "just don't go near that door." He pointed to the far corner, where a lone door sat in the wall, dwarfed by the surrounding shelves. Alice nodded eagerly, mentally reminding herself to investigate one day when he was elsewhere.

A few of Wonderland's more bothersome inhabitants (namely the Queen of Hearts) protested the living arrangements; Alice and her predicament were novelties that "should be shared by all"—though the term "all" was, of course, loosely interpreted to mean only the Queen. As Her Majesty became more and more intense with her objections (and, by proxy, more and more violent), the Hatter decided something had to be done.

"Alice," he asked over breakfast one morning, about two weeks into her stay with him, "you don't _want_ to live with the Queen, do you?" He reached across the table and snagged the jam, smearing it all over the piece of toast on his plate. Really, he didn't care what Alice's reply would be, as he and the Queen typically did not get along, and he had no intention of sending Alice to live with a woman whom he deemed a tyrannical and tea-hating despot. Nevertheless, his eyes were wide with seeming apprehension as he looked across the table at the girl who had so rudely (or so he kept telling himself) his life. He dumped half a cup of powdered sugar atop his toast, shaking the container so that every last speck fluttered out.

Pouring herself some milk (for she was continually refused tea), Alice shook her head. "Good heavens, no! The last time I saw her she tried to have me beheaded! I'd much rather stay here with you."

The Hatter worked hard to conceal a smug grin. "Very well, then." He downed his tea in one quick turn of the cup and jumped up from the table, bounding to the door. "I'm off, then," he announced. "I'll be back when I've come to an arrangement with our delightful monarch."

Soon enough the Hatter and the Queen had worked out an agreement of sorts, and the Queen sat in her palace satisfied with the knowledge that even if that bothersome Hatter had beaten her out as permanent host to the girl, Alice would at least be spending the better part of three hours at court each week learning etiquette and such things that a young girl growing up in society ought to know. And certainly, the Hatter was not fit to teach such things; had he had free reign, Alice would have left her childhood behind only to emerge as a child in the body of an adult.

Upon learning the accord that had been established, Alice was not pleased. "Lessons?" she asked when the Hatter arrived triumphantly home. A dangerous spark gleamed in her eye. "_Lessons_ with the _Queen of Hearts?!" _Her eyes flashed. "One of the happiest thoughts I've had about my situation is that I didn't have to sit through anymore lessons. I didn't have to memorize lines, I had escaped boring volumes on etiquette—and now you tell me I have to go back to all of that, and with the woman who tried to have me _beheaded? _Are you mad?!"

"Why, yes I am," he said, grinning cheekily. "And," he said, sobering, "you will go to those lessons if you wish to stay here." The unspoken "suck it up" hung between them, putting a thick damper on any further conversation. Some minutes of silence had passed before Alice's curiosity won over her irritation and defeat. "Why would the Queen of Hearts want to give me lessons anyway?" she asked. "Wouldn't she consider that beneath her?"

He shrugged. "Apparently not. Besides," and here the cheeky grin resurfaced, "your behavior is perfectly atrocious. I feel like I'm raising an uncivilized lout. It is such a strain, dealing with one such as you day after day. Why," he continued, leaning back and folding his hands contemplatively, "such an act should earn me a nomination for sainthood at the very least."

Alice shrieked and swatted at him. "You…you…" She stopped, horrified that she had no proper retort. Grimacing, she took the childish approach. "Ugh, fine! Have it your way," she ranted, storming up to her room.

And that was that.

The lessons began innocently enough. With the Hatter trotting along by her side, Alice dragged herself slowly along the path to the palace, glancing furtively around the whole while. After her last encounter with the infamous Queen of Hearts, there was no way Alice was letting her guard down.

"I still can't believe you're making me take lessons with _her_," she muttered mutinously.

The Hatter rolled his eyes. "And I've _told_ you, Alice," he replied, irritated, "that this is the only way. Not only are you going to further your education—not that I care about that, really, but _she_ at least thinks it's important—but our dear and beloved Queen of Hearts will also be supplying you with everything you could possibly need to live comfortably."

Alice gaped at him. "She's what?"

He paused, head cocked to the side and eyes alight with humor. "I don't know if you've noticed or not," he said, "but I'm not exactly female or made of money, nor am I a seamstress. I, Alice, am simply a hatter." He ignored Alice's muttered, "Somehow I doubt that," continuing, "We have to get you clothes and comforts somehow."

Unable to challenge such logic, Alice turned back along the path, irritably doing her best to ignore her companion. The rest of the walk passed in relative silence, Alice forcing herself to pay attention to the path so that she would not get lost on consecutive trips, the Hatter whistling a merry tune to himself. Alice found herself listening despite herself, even (to her horrified realization) humming along to the nameless tune at various points.

"Ah," he exclaimed, "you aren't mad anymore! Excellent!" And she was treated to a brilliant smile and a pair of wickedly glinting blue eyes. "Alice, my dear," he said, freezing in the middle of the path and causing her to jolt into his back, "your shoe is untied." Somehow, in the midst of their trip, it had slipped Alice's mind that she wore shoes that buckled, and she gazed down at her feet, distracted. The Hatter promptly seized her hair bow and ran off along the path, legs askew and laughing mightily.

Yelping, Alice took off in hot pursuit. "Give it back! That's not very nice!" This continued for some time, until, gasping for air, a sweaty and tired Alice finally caught up to the Hatter and triumphantly seized her bow from his slack hand. He stood against a tree, poised and looking not at all as if he had been running at a dead sprint.

"And now," he smirked, "you're angry with me again; I couldn't bear it knowing that we were actually getting along."

Alice huffed, confused and irked. "You are such a child," she said haughtily, straightening her clothes and flouncing back to the path. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?" he murmured, moving to follow.

And then, before they could take more than a few dozen steps, they arrived. The Queen's palace was grandiose and dripping with opulence. Every surface was either marble or gilded wood, and gems and precious stones studded windowsills and decorations. An immense courtyard opened up before the grand entrance staircase, adding to the immensity of the entire building.

Alice could not help but stare with openmouthed wonder at her surroundings. "Well," she said finally, as they crossed the large marble square, passed three massive, flowing fountains, and dodged a pack of … "apparently sneaking in through the back gardens means that you miss a lot."

An amused smile tugged at the Hatter's lips as he nodded solemnly in reply. "The Queen does prefer to put her best front forward."

The Hatter guided her up a sweeping staircase, through a set of gilded doors, and down a long, narrow hallway, inclining his head at the various footmen and suits that they passed. "Now," he said, propelling her towards the monumental door at the end of the hall, "you learn. I will _not_ be accompanying you in there; that woman scares the living daylights out of me." He shuddered slightly and gave Alice a slight push towards the door. "Have fun!"

"Have fun, indeed." Alice turned to glare at his hastily-retreating back. "Hmph." The door loomed before her now, all gold and mahogany and riddled with ornate designs. Entwined clubs, diamonds, and spades wound around the outside edges, framing lavish and intricate hearts. Alice gulped and knocked sharply on the door.

It swung open with a loud creak, admitting her to one of the largest rooms she had ever seen in her life. The ceiling sat high above her head, imperial and arched, and it was lined by countless windows that gleamed in the morning light. Thick columns supported the arches, each marked with the same intricate designs as the door.

"Aha!" The Queen's voice echoed loudly in the cavernous hall. "Alice! How good to see you, dear!" She was an intimidating woman. She wore her black hair piled atop her head and secured with a gold crown that practically dripped with gems. Her dress, unsurprisingly, was a rich crimson, and small hearts dusted the edges of her sleeves and skirts.

She swept over to her young pupil, skirts a-bustle and head held high. "It's been too long, child, far too long!"

Alice bit her lip and refrained from replying. Absentmindedly nodding yes or no to the Queen's various questions, she focused on Wonderland's imposing monarch, mentally noting the manner in which the Queen held herself and the imperial look in her eye. Here was a woman who would not hesitate to use her power—apparently, some things did not change.

For her part, the Queen eyed Alice critically, taking into particular account the girl's windswept hair and rumpled dress. She tutted, shaking her head back and forth and looking at Alice disappointedly. "We have a long way to go."

Three hours and countless diatribes on her shortcomings later, Alice decided that, for that lesson at least, they had gone far enough. "Your Majesty," she began tentatively, obediently shifting so that her back was ramrod straight as the queen prodded her impatiently, "is it not almost time for me to leave?" She kept her tone carefully polite, not wishing to offend her tempestuous patron.

"What?" Distractedly, the Queen glanced up from where she had been eyeing Alice's dismal posture. Bright noon sunlight streamed through the vaulted windows, verifying Alice's statement. The Queen took this all into stride as she turned towards the window, eyes glinting in the bright light. "Good heavens, child," she exclaimed exaggeratedly, "I believe you're right. Well, go on, then," she declared, nodding imperiously towards the door, "and I'll expect you to exhibit perfect posture upon your return. Yes?"

Alice nodded emphatically. She would have agreed to practically anything to escape the tedium of that first lesson.

Eyeing her young pupil sternly, the Queen drew herself up to full height and then stepped aside, satisfied. "Go, then," she commanded.

Alice did not exactly run from the room, but she did not take her time, either. Shutting the door behind her, she sagged back against the ornately-carved wood in relief. Three hours was, in her opinion, far too long to spend in the company of the unpredictable Queen of Hearts. _What _an ordeal! And, the Hatter _would_ run off and leave her to face it on her own; she knew his uncharacteristic kindness was too good of a thing to last.

Really, though, his noticeable lack of insults had become relatively unnerving. She was well-adjusted to receiving and countering his witty attacks, and, loath as she was to admit it, she was beginning to miss them. This kind, compassionate (though admittedly juvenile) Hatter was not what she had anticipated when it had become clear they would be sharing living space. Although, the insults had been resurfacing as of late, so she at least was not disappointed in that spectrum.

"Ugh." Here a sigh was necessary as Alice relaxed, expelling the last of her nerves. Free for a week! Now, all she had to do was master perfect posture—a feat she had long since abandoned in England—within the next seven days. "Brilliant," she murmured. First and foremost, though, she had to escape the palace—it seemed the palace had taken great delight in shifting its floor plan while she had been occupied.

Two long corridors, twelve doors, and five wrong turns later, Alice was decidedly unhappy. She allowed her head to flop back exhaustedly against the wall she rested against, closing her eyes and exhaling heavily. "Why is everything in this blasted world so confusing?"

"A better question would be: why are _you_ so confused?"

Alice blinked. "Why, you're the Cheshire Cat," she exclaimed. The Cat walked out of the shadows and returned her stare, grinning widely up at her. "And you're Alice," he retorted.

"Wha—How did you get in here?" she asked, watching with wide eyes as the Cat strolled along the elaborate marble floor, bushy tail held high.

He stared up at her with bulbous yellow eyes. "How did you?"

"Why, through the door, of course," she declared, thinking that she really didn't have the time for this.

Nodding the Cat bounded up onto the windowsill that rested just above Alice's head. "And I did likewise," he retorted, leering down at her with his omnipresent smirk. "Only…I didn't. You look lost, Alice."

Pride would not allow Alice to completely admit her dilemma. "I am not lost," she demurred, "simply…confused."

The Cat nodded sagely. "As are we all," he said. His form flickered, rippling and blending with the bright light streaming in through the window. "You may want to ask a suit of armor for directions. They seem to be most knowledgeable today." And, just like that, he was gone, out like a light.

"A suit of armor?" Alice asked herself, peering down the long hallway. There was indeed a suit of full plate mail situated in a small alcove just off the main hallway, and she approached it tentatively, questioning her sanity all the while. "Excuse me," she began politely, smiling hesitantly up at the visor, "but can you help me get out of here?"

Seeing how the advice had come from the Cheshire Cat, Alice _was_ expecting a result of some sort, so it only frightened her a _little _bit when the visor clacked open and a ghastly, wailing voice emanated from inside the supposedly hollow suit. "Alice," it moaned. "You are looooost."

Timidly, she nodded. "I am," she confessed. "Can you help me?"

"If you do something for meeeeee."

Alice folded her hands, flexing her fingers. "And what, exactly, must I do?" she asked hesitantly. Certainly, she wanted to leave, but she was naturally leery of any offer emanating from a suit of iron body armor.

"Describe for me, if you will, this dashing Hatter fellow with whom you're staying. I've heard so many wonderful stories of him, but I have not yet been blessed enough to meet his heavenly presence myself." If one were being polite, one would say that that Alice was merely surprised. The less-decorous observer, however, would baldly declare that Alice was dumbfounded, and sat for a good, long moment with her mouth gaping open and her eyes wide with shock.

"You want me to tell you about the _Hatter_?" she finally asked, voicing her incredulousness. "Why?!"

The voice adopted what would have described as a fawning tone in any entity not encompassed by metal. "Oh, I have been dreaming of that dashing haberdasher for _years_! His looks, his personality--everything about him is gorgeous." There was a slight twitch in the armor's voice now, as if it were repressing laughter.

Alice's head shot up at that, her eyes narrowing.. "You!" she exclaimed. "How _nice_ of you to finally show up...and in a suit of armor, no less."

The armor clacked and clanked, coming to life in an explosion of long, metal-covered limbs. In the midst of the confusion, the helm slipped from the chest plate and crashed to the floor with a sound that shook the hallway and left Alice's ears ringing. "You!" she exclaimed again, glaring up at the now-revealed and widely-grinning Hatter. "What on earth are you doing?"

With much creaking and groaning on the part of the armor, he leaned down to Alice's level. "Why, I thought you might need help leaving the palace. I felt _awful_ simply leaving you here." His eyes were alight with ill-concealed mirth as he procured his hat from behind a stack of rusted weaponry, setting it atop his head with a slight flourish.

Alice simply snorted. "I'm certain you did," she said, "but what on earth does that have to do with the armor?"

His grin grew. "It looked like fun. I've always wanted to be a knight in shining armor." He struck a valiant pose, jutting out his chin. "What do you think?"

Masking her amusement beneath layers of irritation, she glare at him accusingly. "I think it's time to leave. It's not very polite of you to just abandon me, you know."

The Hatter shook his head dramatically, sending her a woeful look from beneath the brim of his hat. "Alice, Alice, Alice," he said laughingly. "I already told you: the Queen and I do not get along." He looked down regretfully at the armor. "But I suppose you're right--we should be leaving." Stealthily as could be, which wasn't saying much, he turned and slowly began making his way along the hallway, his footsteps echoing loudly against the hard floor.

Quirking an eyebrow as she watched him make off with an obviously-valuable suit of armor, Alice smiled wryly. "And is that her fault or yours, I wonder?" she mused, skipping lightly up to walk alongside him.

He fluttered a hand at her. "Trivial details, my dear." Grasping her elbow, he steered her towards a small, open doorway. "Now, shall we get you home?"

As they navigated the labyrinth of the palace, the one thought running through Alice's head was that maybe, just maybe, he did care.

* * *

The latter part of this chapter was incredibly fun to write. I'm not sure why, but I really enjoyed it =D Now that all of the living arrangements and such have been sorted out, we can begin to delve into our strange pair's wonderful misadventures! Anybody else excited?

As always, reviews are welcome and encouraged.


	4. Chapter 4

Oh yeah, making progress! This is a chapter in which quite a few little things happen that contribute to something much larger. I'll say nothing more, and allow it to speak for itself. As always, read, enjoy, and review!

* * *

Amid the chaos that constituted her daily routine, Alice began to fit in lessons, blending etiquette and mathematics with food fights and witty repartee. She tried desperately to resist Wonderland's infectious pull, clinging to the rigid behavioral structures of her former home.

When the Hatter tried to tempt her into sneaking into the Hare's house and bolting all of the furniture to the ceiling, Alice refused, citing the impropriety of the act as her excuse. It didn't stop her from laughing hysterically at the sight of the Hare tugging futilely at his divan, though. When the Hatter lurked around the palace after walking her to her lessons (for he never allowed her to make the journey unaccompanied) and sang as loudly and as mockingly as he could outside the window of the throne room, Alice ducked her head and pretended not to know him; however, when she was certain the Queen wasn't watching, she grinned indulgently at the window and hummed along in her head.

And, in its own, backwards way, the pair was happy.

Alice would habitually rise with the sun and stagger downstairs, hair askew and robe slung haphazardly on, to start the water boiling for the Hatter's tea—she had all but given up on having some for herself. As her companion made it a habit to awaken at varying hours, she always planned on his joining her for breakfast, so, alongside her modest meals of porridge, toast, biscuits, and the occasional egg, she always set a plate of sugary confections, jams, butter, and more traditional fare presented in unusual ways.

"I don't know how you eat that stuff day after day," she voiced, staring distastefully at the syrupy concoction that covered the Hatter's plate. "Don't you ever just want toast or a sausage?"

The Hatter paused in his enthusiastic slurping of the sugary mixture, eying Alice askance. "How boring!" he exclaimed. He said it around a mouthful of food, though, so it came out more as, "Hgh bughrnng." A small crumb dropped from his mouth to the table, causing Alice's nose to wrinkle in disgust.

"It's a good thing I have the Queen to teach me manners," she declared. "You're an absolute slob!"

He swallowed and directed a winning smile across the table. "Guilty as charged, my dear!"

"Ugh." Her eyes rolled in exasperation as she chewed her toast. One hand slid surreptitiously along the table towards the teapot that sat just to his left; the fact that she was still denied tea was a constant burr in her side, and she never hesitated in attempting to rectify what she saw to be an unjust situation.

Unfortunately for Alice, the Hatter knew this quite well, and always kept at least one eye on the teapot. "Nuh-uh!" Deftly, he hoisted the teapot out of Alice's reach, wagging a taunting finger in her face. "You know better than that, Alice!"

Her eyes narrowed as her hand slipped innocently back into her lap. "I abhor you." Her voice was syrupy, sweeter than the mess on his plate. Alice kept her expression mild, but her eyes were dancing with ill-suppressed mirth. Both knew that she didn't mean a word of it. The Hatter smiled, satisfied. "I wouldn't have it any other way." Leaning back contentedly in his chair, he glanced at her indulgently. "Now, would you pass the sugar?"

Conversations of this sort always happened at least once a week, and somehow, inevitably, when he asked for Alice to pass the sugar, she always would.

The bright sunshine of a warm spring day found the pair outside, basking in the glow of the late morning sun. "So," Alice said, her voice maintaining an even and disinterested timber. She sat in a wicker chair on the Hatter's porch, staring intently at the dress she was supposed to be embroidering. To say she was avoiding his gaze would be silly, for Alice was quite the confident little thing, and certainly unafraid of the Hatter's opinions. Nevertheless, her focus on the fabric refused to waver.

The Hatter eyed her speculatively from where he stood against the porch railing. The waters of the moat that circumscribed his house rippled, stirred by the gentle breeze that sent his hair into a messy dance. "So what?" he asked, leaning back against one of the columns interspersed between feet of worn white wood. One hand lifted to smooth the disturbed white strands.

The needle flashed, in and out, in and out, and Alice bit her lip in concentration. "What are your thoughts," she inquired cautiously, "on birthdays?"

The Hatter's reaction was instantaneous. He yelped and immediately lost his balance, slipping from the railing to land on the floor of the wooden porch with a painful thud. "Birthdays?" he asked weakly, righting his hat and looking up at her with fear and disgust evident in his eyes. "What_ever_ would possess you to ask about such a hideous thing?"

Alice set aside the fabric. "Because," she said with care, "mine is next week."

"Oh. Well, there's an easy solution to that!" He stood up and straightened his clothing, nodding assuredly.

"What?"

"Don't celebrate it!"

Crossing her arms, Alice leveled an irritated look at her friend. "I can't _not_ celebrate my birthday!" she exclaimed.

He frowned, puzzled. "Of course you can! Just ignore it and celebrate your _un_birthday!" He was shocked that she would consider any other option. Aging was a frightful business, and Alice should not have to undergo such a traumatic experience. The Hatter hadn't celebrated a birthday in, well, he couldn't remember _how_ many years, and he was quite content with that.

Alice sighed, impatient. "I could be wrong, but wouldn't that mean I won't get older?" She glanced down at her hands, linking and separating her fingers. "I would like to progress beyond the age of twelve," she said reproachfully.

"You…you _want_ to get older?" His eyes were wide, and he appeared fascinated with this concept. "Why?" His interest belied the sudden thrill of irrational fear that coursed through him. She wanted to grow up? She would leave behind fun and adventure and childhood--and him, for what was he at heart but an overgrown child?--forever, with no backwards glance? The notion frightened him far more than he cared to admit.

"Well…" Alice chose her answer carefully, knowing that this conversation was key to the fate of her upcoming birthday. "There are certain things about growing up that I wish to experience. If I stay a child forever, then I wouldn't be able to."

"C'est impossible! You can do anything in Wonderland!" he declared, jumping up to fling an encompassing hand into the air. He paused, doubt seeping into him, and the arm lowered fractionally. "What kind of things, exactly?" His voice was quiet, worried, and his face bore an expression of anticipation that, had Alice been more observant at the moment, would have struck her as most unusual and worrisome.

Alice's face lit up as she thought of all of the adventures growing up had to offer. "I'll be independent," she sighed happily. "Completely and totally independent. I will be able to age and learn by experience. Adults will have to respect me, not ignore me, and I'll be taken seriously for once!"

"Alice, you're taken quite seriously here!" he exclaimed, indignant. "Don't you know that?"

She blushed. "Well, yes, of course, but back in England I was always written off as a silly little girl who didn't deserve to be included in the doings of adults. I mean, I was never actually _interested_ in what they were doing or discussing, but it never seemed to cross their minds that I was nevertheless intelligent enough to understand what they were doing."

Aha. The Hatter understood. She hated to be ignored, and such treatment in her original home must have left her with an unfulfilled need to prove herself mature. "Well, Alice," he assured her, "you do know that I know that you know quite a lot about everything, yes?"

She puzzled through that for a minute and then laughed. "Yes, I do," she smiled, "but I do still wish to grow up a bit. I've been dreaming of these goals for a long time."

He sighed. "Are those all of the perks growing up has to offer? They don't sound that great, and, in fact, I can assure you they're not!" He was grasping at straws now, for both he and she knew that he very much enjoyed his independence, if not being taken seriously.

"Well," (and here, Alice blushed slightly) "I want to be old enough to fall in love, too."

This was quite the unexpected revelation, and left the Hatter frozen in shock. She wanted to fall in _love? _Precocious, fiery, curious, intelligent, golden-haired little Alice wanted to grow up to experience love...the thought struck a harsh chord within him, and he discovered that he did not wish for this to happen. For, who would she fall in love with? One of those presumably dashing young lads in town? Hardly! They knew nothing and would bore her in minutes. A random suit in the Queen's palace? If she didn't end up chasing the poor boy down a corridor with a pole arm, he was a seamstress.

Looking over at her, he saw her expectant and questioning expression and realized that she was awaiting some sort of response. Very well, then...His nose wrinkled. "Love?"

Alice nodded pensively, choosing to ignore his uncharacteristic hesitation and silence. "I've read about it in my books, you see, and I think it sounds wonderful! The problem is, though, that I don't know why anybody would want to fall in love, and that has to do with my age. Twelve-year-olds simply do not fall in love with people. I would quite like to do so in the future, so I want to grow up enough for that to happen, at least."

He gagged dramatically, masking his relief. She only wanted to grow up enough to fall in love? How old was that, then? Seventeen? Eighteen? She wouldn't be completely lost to him, then. "How romantic," he sang, rolling his eyes and turning up his nose. "Growing up for _love_." Scoffing, he turned a knowledgeable expression towards Alice. "You'd be much better off at twelve, my dear, believe me."

Alice snorted. "Coming from the twenty-eight-year-old child, this means a lot."

This was an unnecessary blow, and it seemed to the Hatter that a change of subject was in order. Perhaps if he could distract Alice thoroughly enough, she would stop with all of this nonsense about _aging_. Birthdays were unnatural, and this irrational fear he had of Alice's growing up was a concept he needed time to ponder.

"What say," he said suddenly, swinging to face her, "you and I go explore that room we found last week? I didn't even _know _that I had a billiards table, let alone a herd of them! I think if we work together, we can get through the forest of cues and maybe even catch a glimpse of the elusive eight ball! I can't do it alone, though, Alice." He pouted, sticking his lower lip out. "Say you'll come with me."

It promised to be too much fun to miss, and Alice laughed and stood, pushing up the sleeves of her sensible dress. "Alright, alright. Let's go, then." She was rewarded by his bright smile. Obstinate to the core, though, Alice shook her head as she followed him up the stairs. She _would_ celebrate her birthday.

The next week dawned dark and stormy, and Alice and the Hatter sat cooped up in the Hatter's library. Rain lashed at the windows and roof, creating a driving beat that was irritating Alice to no end. She had not seen the sunlight for the better part of a week, and it was really beginning to take its toll on her. Of course, it didn't much help her temper that the Hatter, who _had_ been peacefully sketching out the design for some new hat or another, had tired of his task and had instead taken it upon himself to irritate her to no end.

_Thwack. _His pencil connected with the wooden table, the resulting noise reverberating through the otherwise silent library. From her seat across from him, Alice looked up from the homework the Queen had been kind enough to assign and glared.

A slow smile tugged at the Hatter's mouth. Deliberately, he lowered the pencil to the table again, watching Alice all the while.

_Thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack!_ He gleefully hammered out the beats in rapid succession, overjoyed that he had discovered a new game. Alice tried her hardest to keep a frustrated pout from her face. "Please stop it," she bit off, grip tightening around her own pencil. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"Of course, Alice. How thoughtless of me." His accompanying smile was so saccharine that Alice would not have been surprised to learn it had given him a toothache.

She nodded in silent thanks, then returned to her work.

_Thwack._

Eyes on the paper, focus on the rules of formal dining… _Thwack. _Alice's jaw twitched. Don't look up, she thought furiously, don't get angry, it's not worth it, he respects you enough to allow you to do your work—

_Thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack thwack_.

"That is _it!_" Alice shrieked, flinging her pencil down and jumping up from her chair. "Why must you constantly do this?!"

The pencil in his hand rapidly disappeared, as if it had never been there in the first place, and he donned an innocent and nonchalant expression. "Do what, my dear?" he inquired.

"_This_." She waved a hand around to encompass a broad array. "Go out of your way to irritate me, ignore my requests, treat me like a child, give me no respect…" To her dismay, she discovered tears were forming in her eyes. "Do you not respect me at all?"

His mouth opened, then closed without ever emitting a single sound. Of _course _he respected her. Did she think nothing of the fact that he opened his home to her, was helping her to adjust to life in Wonderland, admired her for her propriety and occasional bouts of insanity. Then again, he never actually _told_ Alice any of that. Tapping the end of his nose thoughtfully, the Hatter stood as well, staring down at his young friend.

She took his silence as a definite "No," and her lower lip trembled. "Why don't you ever treat me like an adult?" Hurt and indignation gave way to anger, a fierce, red-hot flame of all-consuming self-righteousness and fury. She deserved his respect, to be treated as an equal—not as a child. Her face was red and blotchy, the previously-withheld tears now coursing down her face.

This was a highly unexpected question. "Because you are a child, Alice," the Hatter explained, shocked that she even had to ask. "Try as you may to ignore it, that is a fact. You are twelve; that is hardly old enough to be considered an adult in your old home, let alone in Wonderland." He smiled benignly. "I simply utilize every opportunity to remind you that you need to enjoy your youth, not waste it pining after adulthood."

A muffled shriek escaped Alice. There was nothing she loathed more than being told that she was wrong—particularly when she _knew _that she was wrong. She _was_ a child, and never was she more reminded of this fact than moments such as these. It had been her experience over the course of her limited life that being a child accomplished nothing. In England, this had not bothered her: she had her parents to take care of everything she might need, and she was free to dream away as she pleased.

Wonderland, however, exposed her to the world of independence, and made her think back to her time in England and realize that she had not been taken seriously at all. Maturity made people listen, made people pay attention to you and allow you to do as you pleased. Alice reasoned that if she acted mature, she could live as she pleased while at the same time remaining true to her origins—the mores of Victorian England were still very much ingrained within her psyche.

Children were ignored and overlooked, denied answers and knowledge. The Hatter knew Alice extraordinarily well by this point, knew certainly that she could not tolerate being regarded insignificant. What Alice didn't know, however, was that he never regarded her as anything less than an equal. She was a child, yes, but children were very important to Wonderland—in a world where most never aged, they would have to be.

"Alice." He captured her gaze, held it until she was overcome by the intensity and forced to turn away. "You _are_ a child." His voice was gentle, that of a doctor revealing a particularly unpleasant truth to a patient. "You have to accept that. It doesn't make you weak or unimportant; it may have in England, but in case you haven't noticed, you're not exactly _in _England anymore."

His words trickled into Alice's mind, seeking out her doubts on immaturity and childhood. She had convinced herself in recent months that she wanted nothing more to do with typical childhood. In England, she had been a happy child: carefree, whimsical, imaginative. In Wonderland, she found herself undergoing the paradoxical transition from child to adult in the land where people never aged.

Claustrophobia engulfed her, wrapping around her like a stifling blanket. She was trapped between the innocent and wonderful realm of childhood and the intensity and independence that accompanied becoming an adult. Without her naiveté and connection to England, Alice was left adrift amid a sea of insecurity, and she did not like it one bit.

"Shut up," she whispered. "Shut up, shut up!" Her voice grew louder and louder until she was all but yelling, face screwed up in confused anger and eyes clenched shut.

Seizing his chance, the Hatter stepped towards Alice, rapidly closing the distance between them. Shaking her head furiously, hair whirling about her face, Alice shoved at him, hands connecting with his stomach and propelling him away. "Leave me alone." She emphasized each word with a strike, fists pounding against his chest. "I don't want to be 'just a child.' I want to be somebody, be regarded as more than some girl who asks too many questions."

He bore her blows stoically, face impassive. Stooping, he captured her wrists in his hands, kneeling at her level and drawing her closer. "Alice." This time, his gentle tone attracted her attention and held it, snapping her out of the depths of her rage. "You are still thinking like you are in England. Being a child sometimes does not make you weak or inferior, especially not in Wonderland. Just look at me."

She did, and laughed a little. That much was certainly true. This was the man who routinely antagonized woodland creatures, played practical (and impractical) jokes on his neighbors, and engaged in near-mortal combat for a single cup of tea. _He_ had no qualms about acting childish. Perhaps, just perhaps…

The Hatter sensed a change in her opinions and smiled, his eyes lighting up. "That's the ticket." He touched the tip of his index finger to her chin, tilting her face up. "Smile. Laugh. Be merry. Enjoy yourself. Have fun. Grow older all you like, Alice, but never completely grow up." Something appeared in his eyes then, something Alice could not identify. They shone a brilliant blue, focusing on her with an almost blinding intensity. "Please."

All she could do was nod. When he looked at her accusingly, her shoulders flopped dramatically and she sent him a beaming, brilliant smile. "Alright," she said. "I'll try."

The Hatter nodded, trying to hide how pleased he was. "Good." He poked her nose, then stood and dusted off the front of his trousers. "Rain's abated," he noted casually. "I believe there's a puddle in the garden with my name on it." And, just like that, he was gone, sweeping out of the library and taking his overwhelming presence and the majority of Alice's confusion with him.

Later that day, Alice sat sprawled on the couch, deeply engrossed in a book detailing the history of Wonderland's ruling family and diligently (and embarrassedly) ignoring the Hatter. She couldn't think of how to apologize for her earlier temper, and currently didn't care to waste the time. Her feet were tucked beneath her, and she sat so that one side leaned comfortably against the porous arm rest.

From his perch on the stair railing, where he was darning his socks with a violent maroon yarn, the Hatter could surreptitiously observe his young companion. Secretly, he admired her for her intellectual fortitude—_he _certainly would never have dared to read that book, thick and dull as it was. Her nose wrinkled as she encountered a description that eluded her comprehension, and he took a moment to memorize her expression; Alice was so rarely confused that it was truly a moment to savor.

They had been living together for about a year by this point, and all was progressing about as he expected: they fought and argued (as proven earlier), they talked, they teased, they intrigued each other (though Alice would never admit to her half of it), and he was undeniably much happier with Alice in his life than he had been without. Not, of course, that he'd ever _tell_ her that.

Though the Hatter was inescapably child-like, he retained some adult propensities, and, in this rare, peaceful moment, he found them rushing back into him with the force of a raging river. Being a man who never did anything by halves, he was unsurprised when the flood of revelations did not cease, and set aside his sock to tackle the flow of thoughts. Eyes closed, hands palm down on his crossed legs, deep breaths… His freckled face relaxed, all the tension draining out of him as he thought.

Things were developing differently than he had anticipated. He recognized this, knew that he felt differently about the previously-annoying little sprout of a girl who had so rudely invaded his life of improbability. She was the undecided factor, the key player who could change everything about his carefully-constructed web of juvenile fancy.

In swept a new trail of thoughts, coursing into his mind with a force that he was hardly familiar with—rarely did such strong emotions and thoughts assail him. He recalled his and Alice's first meeting, thought back to their arguments and discussions and pranks and general companionship, and he recognized the seed of possibility. Cognition was something that he possessed in great quantities, and this potential pathway of development was one that he had previously never considered. A small gust of air whuffed out of him as the dawning epiphany struck. "How interesting," he mused in dawning revelation. "How very very interesting."

At his quiet outburst, Alice looked up from her book, twisting uncomfortably to peer over at him with wide blue eyes. "What's interesting?" She asked, the straw hair falling in feathery hanks about her face turned a molten gold by the afternoon sun. Her mouth was parted slightly, her brows drawn together in curiosity.

His eyes flew open and he blinked at her owlishly. For a second there was silence, simply a shared look of confusion; then, his lips quirked into a smile and he flipped himself off of the banister to land at the foot of the stairs. "Nothing Alice," he said. "It's nothing." Languidly, he crossed the room, making a beeline for the kitchen—a strong cup of tea was more than in order.

A few days later found Alice hard at work with the Queen of Hearts. She sat at a desk strewn with papers, a fountain pen clasped between her fingers and her brow furrowed in concentration. "Je, tu, il, elle…" she murmured, glaring ferociously at the conjugations. How the Queen of Hearts had come to know French Alice would never know, but the woman was apparently a master of the language and insisted on Alice's continued education in the subject.

"Have you finished?" Laced with the slightest tinge of impatience, the Queen's question floated across the room to hammer Alice with its implications. "Oui, madame!" Alice called, hurriedly blotting out a mistake and adding the final verb form.

"Tres bien." Wonderland's monarch strode over to the desk and collected the papers, shuffling through them and scanning their contents. "I believe that is all for today, then, Alice. You may go."

Though Alice was not typically one to linger after lessons, she had answers to hunt for, and what better place to start than with the Queen of Hearts? "Your majesty?" she asked tentatively.

The Queen's head snapped up, and she stared at Alice with a perplexed expression that displayed her blatant surprise that her protégé had not run off at the first opportunity of escape. "Yes?" she asked harshly, eyebrows snapping together.

"I was just wondering…well," Alice hedged, unsure of how to phrase her question.

"Out with it, girl!" the Queen barked. "I don't have all day!"

Exhaling loudly, Alice quickly expelled her question. "Why doesn't the Mad Hatter celebrate birthdays?" She said the words quickly so that they almost ran together, and only careful listening on the Queen's part allowed for interpretation of the query.

Rich, throaty laughter filled the room, and it took Alice a shell-shocked minute to realize that its source was none other than the Queen herself. "Dear girl," the normally-stoic monarch said, slowly regaining her composure, "it's not just the Mad Hatter—nobody in Wonderland celebrates their birthday! How else do you think we maintain peace? Unbirthdays make everything so much simpler and happier!"

Alice's eyes grew wide. "_Nobody_ celebrates their birthday?" she asked, her voice laden with ill-disguised shock. "But—what about the babies and children? Don't they grow up?"

The Queen took on a pensive expression. "Well," she said slowly, "children are a special case. They are allowed to grow as old as they like—choose their own paths, and such—but once they hit a certain age most of them generally decide that enough is enough. Birthdays become freakish and frightening, and growing older becomes far too much work for them to even consider it." Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Skirts rustled as Alice shifted. "I'm set to turn thirteen next week," she said finally, "but the Hatter essentially told me that I wasn't allowed to."

"A birthday!" The Queen jumped back from Alice, looking for all the world as if she had just been told the girl had contracted a deadly disease. "A birthday, here in Wonderland! I had forgotten that you…but it is of no consequence—you are free to do as you choose."

To say Alice was dumbfounded would be an understatement. "You—you're saying that I may celebrate my birthday?" she asked, blue eyes wide with ill-concealed gratitude and elation.

Lips pursed, the Queen nodded. "But," she held up a finger in warning, "I wouldn't celebrate too many if I were you. Growing up is well and good, but the older you become in Wonderland, the younger you wish you were. Your friend the Hatter is relatively young for a Wonderlander, physically and psychologically, and I believe part of your friendship is strengthened solely by this fact. Be wary—growing up too much could alienate him." The Queen herself did not appear all too put-out by this possibility, and briefly entertained the fantasy of Hatter-free lessons: embroidery practice with no Hatter to leap out of a potted plant and cause her pupil's needle to jerk in shock, French lessons not punctuated by Alice's occasional lewd slip of the tongue (words whose origin certainly lay with a particular behatted man)… She gave what would be a wistful sigh in any other woman, then returned to the present.

"By all means, Alice, if you wish to celebrate your birthday, do it. I decree it so."

Alice nodded her thanks, then remembered herself and hastily curtsied. "Thank you, your majesty." She bowed her head in subservience. "I am grateful."

The Queen regained her mask of imperialism, face fixed in a scowl. "Good. You should be. Now, be gone from my presence," she commanded, "and don't come near the palace on that day of horrors."

"Yes, your majesty," Alice exclaimed, turning and fleeing the room. The odd conversation circulated through her head, but even the unusually patient behavior of the Queen could not quell her excitement: she _could_ have a birthday in Wonderland! "I _will_ grow up, at least a little," she murmured.

Before Alice knew it, her thirteenth birthday had arrived. She awoke and jumped out of bed to stand before her floor length mirror. "I'm thirteen today!" she crowed triumphantly, shooting her reflection a defiant smirk. "I know I am!" She didn't _feel _any different, but with her newly discovered teenage wisdom she knew that birthdays weren't supposed to leave one feeling particularly unusual.

Cracking her door open, she poked her head out, peering down the long hallway. It seemed the Hatter intended to uphold his threat and remain out of sight. Alice sighed, disappointed. She had hoped he would overcome his aversion to the celebration, if just to wish her a happy birthday.

Alice strolled to the kitchen, determined to treat herself to a nice breakfast and then bake a cake. "_He_ may not recognize the day's significance," she said, "but _I_ plan on it." She rummaged through the pantry, pulling out flour and sugar and all sorts of seasonings. Cake first, she decided, _then_ breakfast.

Mixing in the eggs and butter, she reached absently for her large wooden stirring spoon, frowning when it evaded her grasp. "Where..?" she muttered, turning her head to glare at the empty counter. The dark burnished marble was blank, the spoon nowhere in sight. Alice pursed her lips, then shrugged and opened the drawer to fetch another. She _was_ in Wonderland, after all.

Once the flour and half a cup of sugar had gone the same way as the spoon, though, Alice began to suspect foul play. The remaining ingredients became the source of intense scrutiny, subjected to Alice's alert and watchful gaze. Her efforts were rewarded as she caught the briefest glimpse of one white-gloved hand wrapped carefully around an egg, the briefest flash of orange sleeve cluing her in to the thief's identity. "Aha! Caught you!" she crowed triumphantly to the hidden Hatter. "You thought you could ruin my birthday, didn't you? Well, a cake doesn't make the day!"

She stuck her tongue out childishly, and, just to spite him, finished out the cake. No further mishaps occurred, and she refused to humor his silly game by searching for him. Instead, she hummed to herself as she poured the batter into the pan. Who needed presents or friends, anyway? A birthday could be celebrated quite happily with just oneself, thank you very much!

One baked and half-frosted cake later, Alice sighed dejectedly and cast the tube of icing onto the counter. Apparently a party of one was in fact not enough to constitute a proper birthday celebration. "None of this would be happening if he would just let me celebrate…" Alice's frustration was palpable. She knew she was older, knew that because she had chosen to celebrate her birthday she was, in fact, thirteen years old that day, but the day just didn't feel like much of a birthday to her.

She had never had a birthday without a party or family, and realized then that she probably never truly could again. Plans to celebrate and have fun were then discarded, and Alice tramped over to flop into a chair at the kitchen table. One slim hand curved around her chin, and Alice allowed her head to sag as she pondered the necessities of a birthday.

At home in England, each year she had been the recipient of all sorts of lavish gifts and sweets. Her parents spared no cost when it came to indulging their daughters. There were dresses and cakes and new books, and all the neighboring girls in their ruffled dresses and curly hair would arrive at the estate with an ornately-wrapped present in tow to constitute the party part of the birthday.

It was prolific and overdone and altogether not Alice (she distinctly recalled growing bored at many of the parties and sneaking off to read one of her new books), but she found herself missing those days despite their tedium. Though Alice had been making great strides in her adjustment, memories of her family and former life flowed strongly through her, coached back up the surface by emotional days and occurrences.

Independence was all well and good until one didn't want it anymore.

Sighing, Alice balanced her forehead on the cool wooden surface of the table, eyes prickling with unshed and frustrated tears. How long she sat like that she did not know. Never would she have anticipated that her entry to teenager-hood would be accompanied by solitude and demotion to a position similar to that of a leper.

"Birthdays," she murmured into the table, "bah."

She sat at the table for a long while, numb and oblivious to the world, turning morose thoughts over in her head until she was to the self-pit and loathing. She knew she had friends; they just didn't like birthdays. She disliked quite a bit of the Hatter's undertakings, and yet she ended up going along with most of them. She should simply accept that his aversion to birthdays was something that could simply not be changed. Yet, for some reason, she still felt an uncomfortable pang when she thought of celebrating without him.

The man was such a presence, and typically at the heart of any and all festivities, so the fact that he wouldn't (or couldn't) partake in any sort of birthday party for her hurt Alice more deeply than she would care to admit.

"Alice?" The query was tentative, issued so softly that she thought at first she may have imagined it. As her ears recognized the light tenor of his voice, Alice's head shot up. "You--I thought you planned on avoiding me today?" There was an open-ended question tacked onto the end of her statement, and she looked at him with eyes that contained far too much hope for the contrary.

The Hatter shifted uneasily from foot to foot, lurking in the corner of the kitchen and eyeing Alice warily. "Truthfully," he said, "I had every intention of doing so. Birthdays frighten the living daylights out of me. But then I thought that I would be very hurt if you decided not to attend one of my unbirthday parties, and I realized that would be a lot like my ignoring you today." His face was slightly flushed, and Alice's eyebrows rose slightly at the lost and utterly hopeless expression on his face.

She knew enough of him to know that this was as close to an apology as she was ever likely to see, so she smiled happily and rose from the table. "Thank you," she said, meaning every word. "I was afraid you would be true to your word, and the thought upset me. Apparently birthdays are a lot less fun when you have no one to celebrate them with." She frowned. "Are you going to celebrate with me, or is this merely a short visit?"

Clearly uncomfortable, the Hatter shrugged. "Well," he hedged, slowly inching closer to Alice, "I suppose I could stick around for a little while. It's not like _you_ know how to hold a proper celebration, anyway."

Alice looked indignant. "I do so!"

His mouth quirked into a supercilious smirk. "Your cake-decorating skills are atrocious," he declared, waving dismissively towards her half-frosted cake, "you clearly have no plans, and _where_, pray tell, are the balloons? A party isn't a party without balloons."

Her answering smile was payment enough for his discomfort.

Years later, Alice would look back and recall that birthday with particular fondness. Even though there were no boxes and bows, no guests, party favors, family, or even mention of "the hideous 'b' word," she would swear that it was the best birthday that she had ever had—and she owed it all to the Hatter.

* * *

Ye gods, this is a long chapter! Ah well, that makes it worth the wait! Thanks to everybody who has reviewed so far--your comments and opinions are what keep me motivated!


	5. Chapter 5

And I resurface from the depths of the real world with a nice, long update! Did you miss me? I love writing this story, so _I _certainly missed me. A lot of little things (and a few big ones) happen in this chapter, so be on the lookout!

As always, read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

"I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

Alice's ears perked up, drawing her out of the drowsy lethargy of a lazy summer afternoon. She lay amid a field of sprawling tadasies—a curious, sweet-smelling lavender hybrid of Earth daisies and tulips—her head resting on a pillow of thick green grass and arms draped comfortably over her stomach.

"I'm late!" The anguished exclamation again broke through the silence of Alice's solitude, stirring vague and all-but-forgotten memories of a long, long fall down a dark rabbit hole. With a small sigh, she sat up, sending the bread-and-butterfly that had been perched on her bent knee fluttering into the hazy air.

Back cracking in protest, she stood, stretching her arms high above her head until her shoulder emitted a satisfying pop. In the distance, the tall, elegant flowers rustled with the movement of the harried intruder to Alice's sanctuary, stems waving and shaking in his wake.

Her curiosity piqued, Alice peered towards the wildly waving trail of flowers, but the identity of the tardy stranger remained masked all around by lavender petals. The field before Alice shivered and waved, but no one appeared, and the trail abruptly veered away, disappearing into the distant trees. She caught a fleeting glimpse of a twitching pink nose and the tips of two fluffy white ears before her gaze was obstructed by the brush. "Huh." Alice was puzzled, but nothing further could be discerned from staring into the trees.

She put all thoughts of the strange almost-encounter from her mind. The memory would come flitting back later in the week when she read about the grand trial and following execution hosted by the Queen of Hearts (because somebody ate her tarts), but for the moment Alice thought only of taking a long walk and enjoying the beautiful weather.

Alice strolled leisurely through the field, happily twirling so that her light dress swooshed first left, then right, drawn by her movements and the light breeze. "I love summer," she proclaimed to no one in particular. Far above, a bird chirped a happy affirmation as it flew overhead, a dark streak against the fathomless blue sky.

Inhaling, Alice took in all of the warm smells of summer, then laughed, a light musical sound that all but danced through the air. She couldn't be happier--winter had been long that year, dragging on further and further into what should have been spring, and now it seemed that Wonderland was apologizing with the most beautiful weather Alice had experienced in all of her two-and-a-half years there.

Life with the Hatter was interesting, to say the east, but the mutuality of their exasperations with each other suited both parties just fine. He remained the dominate childish influence in her life, and she persisted in being the adult in his.

What neither of them realized was that they were both changing. Alice allowed herself to relax much more often, frequently dissolving into giggles; she didn't know it, but she had laughed more in the past few years than she had her entire life. The Hatter, though he would never admit it, found himself considering some actions before hastily jumping in; where he would have once simply laughed off grave situations, he now applied conscious thought to them.

Of course, the duo still got into its fair share of unusual trouble. More than one of Alice's lessons had begun with her being scolded for turning up in a dress muddied by a spontaneous exploration of a newly-discovered lake of mud in the Hatter's yard, or for arriving late, panting and red-faced, and babbling about jabberwocks and oversize flyswatters.

Tea continued to be a constant in the lives of both, and many an afternoon was spent drowsily perched in the chairs of the Hare's garden, feet propped up on top of the table (in the case of the Hatter) and talking philosophically about nothing in particular. (They eventually determined that nothing could only be nothing when something was missing from everything.)

As Alice meandered along the path, she could not help but notice how the landscape abounded with life: every tree was teeming with plump green leaves, the surroundings wildflowers were flush with verve and pollen, animals of all sorts darted to and fro in their daily routines, and colors Alice had never even imagined speckled the surrounding area.

There were blue flowers speckled with an arresting shade of pink-orange, ruby petals outlined by what appeared to be actual rubies and even one particular tree that appeared to be backwards—its leaves were varying hues of brown, its trunk a decidedly violent chartreuse.

Rich olive-colored leaves shrouded most of the low-hanging tree branches and bushes, supplementing the almost blinding emerald of the grass. Alice imagined as she stepped across the wooded ground that she trod not on a living carpet of grass, but instead thousands of countless gems, each gleaming with its own, internal blaze.

A sluggish brook trickled through the woods, burbling happily as it flowed over rounded river rocks and pockets of silt. Alice splashed through it, the cool water a relief against her warm bare feet. Shoes had been systematically discarded in honor of the weather, piled unceremoniously in her room next to the parasol that should have accompanied her foray as well.

Her parents would have a fit if they could see her now, she knew. Here she was, a young woman of fourteen, frolicking around the woods in only a light summer dress, shoes and parasol and hat nowhere to be found. In England, she would have been laced into a restrictive and stuffy dress, back ramrod straight, parasol in hand and bonnet on her head. Alice laughed again, a loud, gay sound that rang throughout the trees. To think she had missed such society when she had arrived!

Alice flung her arms out wide and spun in place, eyes close and face upturned to the burning sun, allowing its rays to caress her face. She reveled in the heat, warmed by its comforting touch. A wide smile broke out across her face, then transitioned into a startled 'o' as she thumped firmly into a solid form.

Bright blue eyes fluttered open. "I'm terribly sorry," she began, a pink flush spreading across her cheeks as she addressed the body with which she had collided. Her hands flew instinctively up to her hair to tame wild, straw-covered strands that had been stirred by the day's unruly zephyrs. Seeing who her unexpected companion was, however, she ceased her movements, grinning up at him.

"Quite alright, Alice," he said, with bright smile and a knowing glint in his eye. "It happens to us all." The Hatter, too, was dressed for the weather. He had discarded his traditional coat and vest in favor of a simple, cream-colored shirt, and wore it with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, exposing more of his freckled forearms to the world. His pants were of a light material, and he, too, was barefoot, much to Alice's obvious amusement.

Catching the direction of her gaze, he wiggled his toes, digging them into the soft ground. "My feet were feeling neglected," he told her with a grin. "They wanted to breathe, to feel the fresh air."

Alice wrinkled her nose but grinned nevertheless. His head was bare too, white hair stirred up by the balmy breeze and floating about his face in a lazy halo; even the hat had been deemed a superfluous addition to his ensemble, discarded after much contemplation on an upstairs table.

He flexed his toes, digging his feet into the carpet-like turf of the woods and sighing appreciatively. "There really is nothing else like a warm summer day," he declared. With all the grace of an acrobat, he relaxed his legs and fell backwards onto the ground, cushioning his landing and then promptly relaxing against the grass and closing his eyes. "Apathetic inclinations and stirrings of lethargy abound on days such as this, no?" He stared up at her through half-lidded eyes, a teasing smile playing about his face. "But you know that already, don't you Alice?"

Alice leaned back casually against a nearby tree. "I know nothing," she replied, smoothing the telltale wrinkles from her dress and brushing grass from her hair. "I have simply been out…appreciating the finer aspects of the morning."

Snorting, the Hatter bounded to his feet. "And I'm a jabberwocky," he declared. "You fell asleep!"

"I did nothing of the sort," Alice retorted indignantly, spinning away from him. "I was resting my eyes!"

He laughed. "I'm certain you were." He darted over to her, grinning. "Well, enough napping or not-napping, silly!" He grabbed Alice's arm and leaned down so that their noses were almost touching; Alice could see the shimmers of excitement in his eyes. "You promised you'd go fishing today, remember?"

In truth, Alice recalled nothing of the sort. The Hatter had been particularly devious in evoking this promise from her, slipping it in amid a delightful argument they had been having the previous day in regards to the ethics of staging crockery-armed ambushes for the Queen's suppliers along the road in order to obtain curiously-flavored rations. Nevertheless, Alice knew that sometime along the way she must have agreed to accompany him, so she grinned wryly and allowed him to tow her along the path. "Fine, then," she allowed. "Where are we going to fish?"

A delightfully-crafty smile lit up his face. "Why, in the moat, of course!"

That brought about a startled pause. "You have fish in your moat?" She had been anticipating a trip to the beach, envisioning a day where she would stroll along in the sand and collect shells while graciously allowing him to cast the fishing line until he got bored.

"Dear girl, I have no idea what is in my moat! Why else would we fish in it? Half the fun of fishing is not knowing what you're going to catch!"

Having never fished before, Alice nodded, accepting this grain of wisdom. She was curious, though. "If that's only half the fun, what constitutes the other half?"

"Catching what you don't know, of course!"

They walked along through the woods at a brisk pace, an odd pair to the casual observer. The Hatter strode along the grass, a whirl of long legs and pale skin and speckled freckles, a spring in his step and that ever-present grin plastered across his face. Beside him, a noticeably-shorter Alice, though admittedly much taller than the height she'd been upon her arrival, matched pace, her steps shorter and more frequent and her hair bouncing gamely as she inserted the odd, ambling run into her gait.

When he knew she wasn't looking, the Hatter spared a glance down at his young friend, brow furrowing in thought even as an indulgent smile quirked on his lips. Her eyes shone with excitement, and her face radiated such joy that he hardly recognized her from the despondent girl of previous years. Wonderland was truly doing well by her.

Alice, too, snuck in the odd surreptitious glance, her eyes darting up to her companion's freckled face more often than she would care to admit. He was so full of life anyway, and this summer fever that Wonderland was experiencing had gripped him tightly and refused to let go. She found herself drawn to him, a fluttering moth to his lively flame.

Faces flushed with the exercise and the sun, the pair halted at a spot where the grass sat just a foot and a half above the moat. "Why don't you make yourself useful and find us some bait?" The Hatter said. "I'll get the gear." He was gone before Alice, who had never gone fishing before in her life, had time to even think about asking what it was fish were likely to eat. Luckily for her, he was also back before she had time to begin her search.

Sighing, he shook his head in comic disappointment. "It's a good thing I was expecting your failure, then." Tutting at her obvious lack of effort, he reached into the bucket he held in one hand and displayed a collection of brightly-colored worms, grinning. "You've never done this before, have you?" He appeared delighted with the prospect, and Alice just barely refrained from groaning. The Hatter was insufferable on occasions where he knew something that Alice did not.

"Nooo…" The admission slipped almost painfully from her lips, and she covered her eyes with her hand rather than see his smug and insufferable smirk.

The Hatter nodded. "I thought not. Well, first rule in fishing, Alice: always have bait. I don't know what you Englanders use by way of fishing bait, but Wonderland fish find these little guys irresistible." He dangled the container of worms in front of her face, and Alice cringed away from them.

"Ugh. What kind of worm are they, anyway?" she asked, peering at them with disgusted curiosity. They didn't seem to be alive, sitting in a multi-colored lump at the bottom of the bag. Nose wrinkled, Alice leaned closer. "Are they even _real_?"

Quick as it had appeared, the bag vanished, leaving Alice staring and blinking at thin air. "Of course they're real!" He sounded indignant, turning his nose up to glower at her. "Those, my dear, are gummy worms."

"Gummy worms…" She processed this for a minute, and then raised her eyebrows dubiously. "They're _candy_. Fish don't eat candy."

Her companion merely quirked an eyebrow in reply.

Alice hesitated, peering into the murky waters of the moat. "…do they?"

Instead of answering, the Hatter tossed her an already-baited fishing pole and gave her a light shove towards the moat. "Go on," he ordered, inclining his head toward the wide ring of water surrounding his abode, "cast in your line!" With a practiced flick of the wrist, he tossed his own line in and took a seat along the edge of the moat, bare toes just skimming the surface of the water.

Lips quirked in the barest of grins, Alice followed suit, her hook plunking clumsily into the water beside the Hatter's line. "Now what?" She kept one finger resting on the hair-thin fishing line, running her free hand through the lush grass that lined the rim of the moat, its strands tickling her palm.

His eyes were narrowed into a quirky smile, dark against the sunlit backdrop. "Now," he declared, "we wait."

And wait they did. Alice and the Hatter sat along the moat's edge for the better part of an hour, slowly baking underneath the rays of the late morning sun, with nothing to show for their expedition but a slowly dwindling pile of candy. Some was actually eaten by fish that soon after escaped, but most found its way directly into the Hatter's stomach instead.

Finally, Alice could take it no longer. "I give up!" she proclaimed, tossing her pole dejectedly onto the ground and fixing it with a thoroughly frustrated frown. "We're not catching _anything_." Angrily, she swiped at a bead of sweat that trailed across her forehead, flinching as the salty liquid brushed against her eye.

At that very moment, the Hatter gave an elated cry and jumped to his feet, yanking his pole back with all of his might and furiously turning the reel.

Alice froze in the middle of her tantrum, turning to regard her friend with incredulity. "I don't believe it."

He gave a loud whoop, throwing his head back and laughing elatedly, reeling with all his might. "It's going to be a big one, Alice!" he cried, bracing his feet against the ground. "I don't know that I'll be able to bring it in alone."

"Right, then," Alice said, dropping her act of irritation and striding over to her furiously-tugging companion. "What do I need to do? Mind, I'll not be diving into any water, nor will you be able to convince me to fight whatever it is you're reeling in." She gazed distastefully at the churning water below, eyeing its murky coloration and frothing surface with trepidation.

"Of course not," he panted, allowing the reel to go slack for a minute. The line shot out rapidly, and he jumped into action once more, pulling furiously at the line and attempting to regain what length had been lost. "I just need help pulling it in. Now, if you could just hold this for a minute," and he shoved the pole into her arms, taking one of her hands and curling it securely about the reel, "and keep it from getting off, I think I can bring it in."

All Alice could do was nod before the line jerked sharply, all but yanking the fishing pole out of her grasp. She bit back a yelp and tugged back, fighting her unseen opponent with all of her strength. The fight seemed never-ending, Alice alternating between yanking and reeling as she grew more and more exhausted. "I didn't think your moat was this deep," she gasped after a particularly violent struggle, seizing the opportunity during a lull in the endless cycle to take a breather.

The Hatter stood beside her, his long his white hair darkened by sweat and clinging to the back of his neck and a wondering look in his eye. "Neither did I!" he marveled, staring contemplatively into the water. A flash of movement beneath the waves caught his eye, and he promptly bent his knees and dove headfirst into the moat. "Hold it there, Alice," he called over his shoulder as he arrowed gracefully into the water before plunging into the murky depths and disappearing from sight.

Alice shrieked in surprise as water swamped her, drenching her from head to toe, then shook her head resignedly and settled back against the grass, digging into the turf with all of her might. It might have been her imagination, but something told her the resulting splash had been intended to soak her. She blinked furiously, shaking the water out of her eyes, and held onto the pole for dear life.

The water below bubbled and frothed, flashes of scales and skin showing above the surface as captor and captive fought. She caught a hint of a garbled yell followed by a gasping breath as the Hatter surfaced for a moment, watching in a kind of horrified amusement as the splashes grew even more violent.

She lost her focus for the moment, the pole going slack in her grasp. The Hatter certainly was a strange character—well, she knew that already, but still. Just when she thought she had him figured out—or as typified as it was possible for him to be—he went and did something that completely undercut any preexisting notions she carried. "I don't know what to make of you, my friend," she murmured, staring avidly at the frothing water.

His safety was not even a consideration; she had seen him swan dive from the top of his tower with naught but a pair of homemade wings strapped to his back and watched him, contrary to her expectations and frantic assertions, soar off into the distant trees and then emerge unharmed. She laughed to herself. "He truly is remarkable."

"Victory, thy name is Hatter!" If the loud and triumphant call from the moat was not enough to bring Alice sharply back to reality, the victorious ululations that followed certainly were. Alice leaned over the lip of the moat to peer crossly at the man who bobbed in the mellowing waves. "Stop that," she commanded. "You sound like an unruly child."

His brows furrowed and his face fell into a pout and he clambered out of the water, flinging first one, then the other long leg up onto the dry ground. "But don't you want to see what we caught?" It was the 'we' that did it for Alice more than anything. Certainly, the sight of him laying in a thick mess of grass and water, water streaming from his clothes and hair and dripping from the end of his nose, was not encouraging, but she nevertheless found herself scooting over to join him. Her curiosity always won out in the end.

Extending one hand, she grasped him by the collar and hoisted him into a sitting position, waiting as patiently as she could as he turned his head to first the left, then the right, and emptied his ears of water. "Well? What is it?" Her eyebrows rose slightly as a small fish flopped out with the water that was draining from his head.

He shifted their prize from where it had been cradled carefully against his chest, hoisting it triumphantly between them. Its scales gleamed an iridescent red in the bright sunlight, and it flopped feebly in the Hatter's grasp, mouth opening and closing and eyes rolling. It was an enormous fish, topping out at exactly three feet in length.

Alice stared at it, lost for words. "What is it?" she asked again, leaning in for a closer look. It _appeared_ to be a normal fish, albeit an abnormally-colored one, but something about it struck Alice as odd. She moved so that there were scarce inches between her eyes and the fish's flank, peering at it quizzically. "Why, it isn't real!" she exclaimed. Reaching up, she prodded its side curiously, eyes widening as the scales gave way beneath her probing touch, leaving her finger coated in a gooey red substance.

The Hatter's mouth fell open, and he stared askance at Alice, his expression mirroring that of the fish he held in his arms. "Not real? Why, this is a delicacy!" He shook his head ferociously, drops of water flying every which way and drenching Alice.

"This, Alice, is a Swedish fish." Breaking off a piece of the tail, he tossed it to her. "Go on, try it!" he encouraged.

Hesitantly, Alice nibbled the treat, her expression changing from one of uncertainty to one of delight. "It's delicious!" she declared, devouring the rest.

The Hatter's smile was genuine as he broke off more of the fish for himself. "As if it could be anything less, silly." He closed his eyes in pure bliss as he savored the sugary treat, falling back against the grass. "Don't ever forget this, Alice," he said quietly.

"Forget what?" she asked through a mouthful of red. "The fish?"

Impatiently, he shook his head. "No, no. _This_." He waved a hand to encompass everything--the hazy afternoon air, the streaming sunlight, the cool waters of the moat lapping against the ground, and even the raucous chirping of the birds. "This is happiness, Alice. Don't ever lose it."

She stared intently into his serious face, nodding slowly. "I won't," she promised. It was one she intended to keep.

A few weeks later found Alice retelling the story of her fishing adventure. "It was a massive fish," she declared, sweeping her arms out wide for emphasis, "monstrous, even, and we ate the entire thing. _All _of it, in one day. We didn't even cook it." Her audience was a small crowd of courtiers from the palace, a motley assortment of suits and servants that sat enraptured, hanging eagerly onto her every word. She had just concluded a lengthy lesson spent scrunched up at a desk in the palace's musty library, and now lounged against the palace wall under the shade of the overhanging eves, allowing her head to clear before she departed for home.

Her audience, in turn, appeared captivated. Over the past few years, most had encountered Alice at some point, and all were quite taken with this strange girl from another world. "Well, you don't _have _to cook Swedish fish, do you?" The question slipped from the lips of a tall boy of about sixteen who reclined casually against a rather misrepresentative statue (in that it was tall enough to provide any sort of base to lean upon) of the King.

Alice glared at him, taking in his unruly dark hair and the small Club insignia adorned on his lapel—_David, _she thought, a younger son of one of the more influential Club families, and also the stereotypical representation of tall, dark, and handsome. "Well, _no_," she retorted crossly. (It wasn't that she disliked him, but rather that he was everything that she found attractive and she sometimes held it against him). "That's the point. You don't." She stuck up nose and frowned at him.

Laughing, he held up his hands in an appeasing gesture, a calculating look in his cool grey eyes. "Peace, Alice," he said. "I was just teasing."

Mollified, Alice smiled at him in turn, willing herself not to blush. "It was a silly story anyway," she said, stepping away from the wall. Her audience, sensing the story's end, began to disassemble, drifting away to various duties and appointments.

The Spade lingered, never taking his eyes from Alice's face. "I was wondering," he asked, pausing briefly to allow for the standard moment of adolescent hesitation, "if you might like to meet me for a picnic lunch tomorrow? We could meet here and…that is—there's a lovely meadow not far from here where we could eat, and…" he trailed off and looked at her hopefully, counting on her to supply the rest.

For her part, Alice was astounded. She had never been asked to do anything like this before (except by the Hatter, of course, but he didn't really count), and she didn't know how to react. It was not an unpleasant thought, however, and without really knowing how she found herself beaming at him and stammering her agreement.

His smile was well worth the moment of confusion, and she found herself humming a gay tune as she made her way home. A light blush touched her cheeks as she strode along the path, lost in contemplation. He certainly appealed to her--she would give him that. It didn't hurt, too, that he was incredibly good looking; David frequently featured as the center of conversation among the young ladies of the court, and the fact that he had singled _her _out was flattering to no end.

Lunch came and passed without much ado, though perhaps that was simply because the Hatter remained unaware of Alice's doings. She had weighed the pros and cons of informing him of her plans, and had ultimately come to the conclusion that to tell him would create more problems than it would prevent. Strangely, though, she had no idea _why _she thought the two should not meet.

David continued to talk to her, complement her, take her out around Wonderland, and she found herself enjoying it. Days soon turned into weeks, and Alice found herself settling into a comfortable routine, adapting the amorous young Spade into her daily routine. Alice gave a light giggle as she meandered home from an afternoon spent wandering through the trees, her thoughts whirling. She supposed this was what one called "courting." She decided that she rather liked it.

"You certainly look happy about something," the Hatter remarked one day as she walked through the door, all smiles and sunshine. He stood in the middle of the foyer, a dark fedora held before his face. Scant inches separated Hatter from hat, and he narrowed his eyes, taking umbrage at some miniscule imperfection that only he could see. "What's the occasion for such merriment?" he asked around a mouthful of hat pins, plucking one from between his teeth to slide it through the fedora's delicate felt.

Hand just brushing the rail of the stair, Alice paused. "I have a suitor," she said, without turning. "His name is David. He's kind and thoughtful and suave and he cares about me and only me." She sighed happily and then disappeared up the stairs without another word, humming to herself and already planning for the next day.

For his part, the Hatter was left reeling. A boy? She had a…date? He spat out the pins and they scattered across the scuffed wooden floor, falling to clatter mutedly against the ground. "Boy, belle, beau…blegh..." he muttered to himself, setting the fedora aside and staring absently at the opposite wall.

How had he not _noticed_? He had promised himself he would know, that he would make sure whichever boy attracted her attention was worthy to keep it. It was all he could do at the moment, but he had failed to do even that. "She's growing up," he sighed, sitting down heavily in a purple-spotted armchair. What hurt him more, though, was that she hadn't told him. _Why _hadn't she trusted him enough to tell him? He sighed again. Something to ponder at a later date.

He had long known this day would come, had known Alice's appeal would be too much for the local youth. What he had not expected was how he would respond. She wanted this, he knew. She had told him so herself. But to think of her in the company of some arrogant, simpering courtier's son…. His eyes flashed. "Not on my watch," he promised himself. He would make sure she didn't get hurt. He would protect her.

"But your watch is broken." An eternal grin flickered into existence above the Hatter's shoulder, followed by two staring, slit-pupiled eyes. "A broken watch makes for a bad time."

The Hatter laughed then, a bright chuckle filled with just a dash of insanity. "A bad time for whom, I wonder?" he pondered. "These young lads nowadays have no notion of the workings of subtlety. I would hate to think this…David…would err in his pursuit of our fair Alice. She is far too high a prize for the likes of him." His face grew stern. "He'd best know it, too." For now, he would wait. Give this boy a chance, why not, allow him his opportunity at Alice's affections; certainly, she deserved to be happy.

"Mirror mirror, on the wall," the Cat droned, his eyes blinking one slow blink and then fading away, "who's the fairest of them all?" His smile grew wider, and then blinked out of existence altogether. "Take care, Hatter, that her heart not fall."

The Hatter was left alone and contemplative, one hand resting unconsciously on his own chest, just above his heart.

Not two days later, the door of the Hatter's chateau burst open, emitting a tearful and hysterical Alice. "He _used_ me!" She flew through the door, slamming it into the wall and leaving it swinging behind her. Paying no mind to her unintended audience of the Hatter, she flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time in her haste to arrive in the sanctuary of her room. "I thought he cared about me! I thought we had something _special_!" Her bed called out to her and she obliged, burying her head in the pillows.

It was wrong to derive any sort of happiness from Alice's distraught state, the Hatter knew. It was wrong, but he did. Some miniscule part of him—the part he always tried so hard to suppress—welled up with overwhelming, smug superiority that this rogue had finally made the fatal slip, had revealed to Alice the hollow character beneath his glamorous mask.

Listening to the sobs echoing from upstairs, the Hatter's face darkened. He was glad the ignorant David was out of the way, but hurting Alice was another question. She deserved better, and it sounded as though she had instead been given worse.

First, to find out what had happened. He clambered up the stairs, drawing even with Alice's latched door in a matter of seconds. "Alice." He knocked at the door.

No reply.

He knocked again, harder this time, but no reply seemed forthcoming. "I always thought he was a lousy, good-for-nothing cad anyway," he remarked conversationally to the door, masking his growing anger (_nobody_ was allowed to hurt Alice) with his conventional humor.

Still no reply.

"Let me in, Alice." This time, it was a command. Ever so slowly, the latch was undone and the door opened, revealing a pair of red-ringed blue eyes and a crack of a pale, tear-streaked face.

"What?" she asked, peering out miserably from between the cracked door. "I have nothing to say."

"What happened, Alice?" he asked quietly. He rested one gloved hand against the door, preventing her from closing it. It was worse than he had feared. "What did he do?" He frowned at her disheartened expression and lethargic actions; it was worse than he had feared, then.

Alice grimaced, recalling her own naïveté. "He played me for a fool, that's what he did. He used my eagerness to love against me—_I _wasn't the girl he wanted. There was another—a Diamond. _She's _the girl he had his eyes on. I was only there to make her jealous."

The Hatter had lost his whimsical expression, exchanging it for one of growing anger, and he nodded decisively. "Right, then." He turned away from the door, sparing a concerned glance behind him. "Will you be alright for a little while, Alice?" he asked. At her nod, he bounded down the stairs, destination fixed firmly in mind.

It took but a short while for the Hatter to arrive at the palace, and even less time for him to find his quarry. The ignorant lout sat against a fountain, arm resting casually around the waist of the girl who the Hatter assumed must be the usurping Diamond.

"David." The Hatter sauntered over to the fountain, the very picture of innocence, and nodded curtly at the lad. "I wonder if you might come with me for a moment?"

Cool grey eyes narrowed. "You're that Hatter nut who Alice lives with, aren't you?" he asked, releasing his beau and rising. "The one they say is mad."

The Hatter's normally-sunny face clouded over, and he drew his brows together over his smoldering blue. "Mad as a Hatter," he affirmed. "Shall we?"

Sensing he really had no choice, David trailed along behind the uncharacteristically grim milliner. "What is this about, then?" the boy asked, sweeping his dark hair out of his eyes with a careless wave.

The Hatter spun on his heel. "This, David," he said, advancing on the Spade like a battle-ready warrior, "is about Alice. You _used_ her. She _trusted _you. Now, who knows how long it will take her to come out of this shell. She'd been doing so well. She played, she _laughed_. She _loved _you."

David laughed nervously, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. "It was just a bit of summer fun," he said. "She knew that. I never said anything about _love_." He looked scornfully at his accuser. "Besides, girls' feelings don't really matter anyway."

For his part, the Hatter was astounded. He had quite forgotten the ignorance that accompanied teenager hood; being but part child and part adult himself, he rarely dealt with displays or feelings of such selfish egocentrism. "No?" he asked. A devious smirk spread slowly about his face, and he grasped David firmly by the shoulders. "We'll just have to see about that."

When the Hatter returned home, the remnants of a satisfied smirk still playing about his mouth, he quickly made his way up to Alice's room. She had fallen asleep and lay curled around her pillow, clutching it to her like a lifeline. Gently, the Hatter pulled the covers up around her. He reached one hand down to the smooth skin of her face, let it hover just above her cheek, before jerking it away with a pained expression and shaking his head. No, that couldn't happen. He sighed and tucked the blankets more securely around the slumbering girl, then drifted off to his own room to sleep.

The next morning, Alice staggered down to breakfast to see an unusually amused and chipper Hatter awaiting her. "Before you become all mopey," he said, "read this." He tossed a newspaper at her. It was _The Looking Glass_, an independent publication that surfaced every now and again when there was any sort of actual news to report.

Blinking heavily, Alice focused in on the headline and front page picture.

_Local cross-dressing youth found dangling from tower._ The picture showed a young male who was unmistakably the infamous David suspended from a spire of Heart Palace's uppermost tower. Alice snorted, then burst out into shocked laughter. "Did you...did you do this?" she asked, shoulders shaking as she fought to retain her mirth.

The Hatter tapped a knowing finger to his mouth. "I'll never tell," he grinned. He leaned back his chair, heaving a satisfied sigh. "I'd say he's learned his lesson, wouldn't you?"

Alice looked again at the picture and burst into renewed peals of laughter. "I would have to agree," she chortled, slipping into her chair. "I must say, he looks rather fetching in that dress. What shade would you say his stockings are?" Her eyes said everything that her words did not; they overflowed with the endless "thank yous" that she could never vocally express, and silently repaired the broken strands of trust that hung between them.

In turn, the Hatter blinked once to show he understood, his face slipping into its traditional mask of perpetual amusement. "I'd have to say plum," he drawled, balancing a lump of sugar precariously on his overlarge nose. Alice was avenged, his delightful revenge was enacted, and most importantly, Alice was happy again. For the moment, nothing could be better.

* * *

Lots of things going on in this chapter, yes indeed. A few random references scattered throughout, some consciously done and some not. This story gets more and more fun to write with each successive chapter. These next few chapters are going to make for some very enjoyable reading =D

And, as always, comments/criticisms are greatly encouraged.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, book and movie aren't mine, Wonderland isn't mine.**

I always hate to use real life as an excuse for my not having posted an update in a while, but this time it is unfortunately a legitimate excuse. I've been dealing with the conclusion of my soccer season, two AP exams, various standardized testing, and, as if everything else wasn't enough, moving, so I've been unable to complete this chapter until now. I am incredibly sorry, but on the bright side that should be my longest gap between updates. Summer is on the horizon, my friends!

As always, please read, enjoy, and review!

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Winter had arrived, and Alice didn't like it one bit. Gone were the beautiful summer months, the warm breeze filtering through the lush, green trees as Wonderland baked; no, now the landscape was buffeted by arctic winds and the penetrating cold of late December, and Alice absolutely hated it. Two weeks prior, with the fourth snowfall of the week, she had decided the weather was out to get her. Now, the drab afternoon and low-hanging clouds hinted at yet another blizzard, which had her hunkered inside the Hatter's home like a hermit, huddled beneath a pile of thick woolen blankets before the fire with a thick book resting in her lap.

Nothing--and she truly meant _nothing_--could force her outside.

All in all, she felt quite relaxed, and allowed herself a smug smile as she watched the biting wind whistle through the bare trees. Unlike _some _people, she wasn't outside in the cold. _She _was sitting nice and warm, snuggled into a blanket; the Hatter, however, had disappeared outside over an hour ago, fluttering his fingers in a vague wave and calling that he would be back after he 'did some yard work'.

"What kind of yard work there is to do this time of year I'll never know," Alice commented to herself, turning a page in her book. "I hope he bundled up." She frowned briefly, trying to recall whether or not he had been wearing anything more than his traditional fare. She _thought _that she had seen a scarf, but she couldn't be certain...Shaking her head, she gave up, returning her attention to the book; he was certainly old enough to attire himself in accordance with the elements.

Just as she had become engrossed in her novel, sucked into that endless ocean of alternate realities and fiction, the door swung open with a bang, emitting a gust of blustery wind and a shivering, very pink Hatter. Alice's head jerked away from her book, flying up from her hunkered position so that she could eye the shivering intruder to her warm sanctuary.

The Hatter had indeed dressed warmly, adding a thick woolen scarf to his neck and swapping out his traditional overcoat for one with lining. Even so, he appeared to be little more than a popsicle—a tall, behatted, trembling, multi-colored popsicle. His teeth chattered uncontrollably, and his face was chapped and pink from the unforgiving bite of the wind and cold. Staggering and stiff-legged, he made his way over to the den where Alice sat and unceremoniously dumped the armload of wood he was carrying by the fireplace.

"You were running low," he said by way of explanation, before he all but collapsed before the fire. Gloves, scarf, and coat were promptly shucked off, exposing as much skin as possible to the fire's warm caress.

A surprised—and delighted, though she would of course never admit to that—feeling ran throughout Alice, a tingling fizz that left her veins humming and her brain bubbling with a mess of conflicting thoughts and emotions. "You were out all that time chopping wood?" she asked, bemused. "For _me?_ Good heavens, why?"

Keeping his torso facing the fire, he bent backwards so that he could stare at her upside-down. "You would have gotten cold." There was an amused timber to his frost-touched voice, and his eyes, dulled as they were by their exposure to the elements, sparkled with ill-disguised humor. "You _hate_ the cold."

Alice could only stammer her thanks and pray that he accounted the blush that touched her cheeks to the fire's heat. Why did he have to go and do something _nice_ and disrupt the natural order? They had an established relationship of antagonist and antagonized, master and pupil, child and adult--yet it seemed to her that, just when she was beginning to feel comfortable and recover after his _last _bout uncharacteristic behavior, he went and did something else to confuse her.

However, there was another, much more prevalent thought that occurred to her, and she drew closer to him, as if under the assumption that even the slightest movement towards him on her part would help him recover body heat. Biting her lip, she drew her eyebrows together and gazed at him worriedly. "You must be freezing!" she exclaimed.

The Hatter could only not his frigid consent, pinching and prodding his bright red nose with worried fingers. He didn't even bother to verbally reply, assuming that his frost-touched apparel and lack of voice spoke for him.

And, indeed, Alice did not fail to take in the way his clothes were all but frozen to his body. A jolt of warmth that could not be accounted to the fire crackling in the hearth shot through her then, the heat of it burning her from the inside out. He had braved such hideous weather for _her_. She smiled softly, then pushed all of her conflicting and confusing thoughts firmly from her mind. "I've always found that a warm bath and a change of clothes helps me," Alice added helpfully, forcing herself to concentrate on the issue at hand.

Laboriously he rose, stretching out joints that creaked and cracked as they recovered from their exposure to Wonderland's arctic experience. "That," he said slowly, "sounds like a fantastic idea." His voice was low and throaty, cracking as heat seeped slowly back into his body. "Alice, my dear," he commented with an appreciative look, "you are a genius." By this point he had recovered somewhat from winter's sting, and found the energy to bound over to the couch—and, by default, to Alice and her heap of blankets. Grinning, he reached down and held his chilled hands to her face, waiting expectantly for the indignant yelp that was guaranteed to follow.

He was not disappointed, and danced upstairs to warm up with a broad smile, leaving a wry and slightly-cooler Alice in his wake.

For her own part, Alice tried to pretend that the Hatter's actions meant nothing. The fact that he had spent an hour outside in frigid conditions simply so that _she_ would not be cold didn't mean a thing to her…did it?

She frowned, and then shook her head. Such thoughts were better left to another time--a much later, far distant time. Sighing, she settled back into her covering of blankets, focusing once more on the story contained between the worn covers of her book.

Three consecutive thumps on the front door not long after told Alice that her tranquil winter afternoon alone had officially come to an end. She snapped out of the story with a sigh, resigning herself to finishing it another day. "Coming!" she called to the knocking individual, staggering up from her comfortable position on the couch. Hurriedly (and reluctantly) tossing her warm coverings to the side and setting her book in her seat, she strode across the foyer to the heavy door. "Yes?" she asked, pulling it open.

For a moment, she thought somebody must be playing a prank, for there was nobody to be found. The earth outside was brown and barren, the trees leafless and lifeless and giving no indication whatsoever of who had knocked on the door. Simply facing the elements from the open door made Alice want to turn an about face and dive back onto the couch. She shivered, running her hands up and down her arms as she stared perplexedly out into her lifeless surroundings. "Down here!" A light tug on her dress attracted her attention, and she quickly turned her gaze earthward. "Hello, Alice!" The March Hare's whiskered face stared up at her, and she could tell from the way his nose was twitching that he was trying not to laugh.

Alice smiled broadly. "March!" she exclaimed, some of the cold's effects dissipating at the sight of a friendly face. "Do come in—it's been far too long!" She stepped back and allowed him to hop through the door, closing it rather quickly behind him to prevent any more of the cold wind from whistling through.

"It has indeed," he affirmed, fluffing his fur in appreciation of the warm fire that crackled in the hearth. "I swear you look more mature every time I see you." He eyed her up and down, taking in her appearance. "How old are you now, Alice? Twenty?"

She sighed good-naturedly, lips tugging into an amused grin. "You know good and well that I'm sixteen," she declared, waving him into the den. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Cookies? I have a scrumptious-looking pumpkin pie in the kitchen that I haven't let Hatter get to yet." She waggled her eyebrows mischievously. "We can go ahead and make a healthy dent in it before he notices, I think." _And that would be the perfect payback for his little cold hand stunt earlier_, she thought to herself with a smile.

Though he looked justifiably tempted, the Hare waved a paw in polite refusal. "No, thank you. I'm actually here to issue an invitation to you and our mutual friend. Where is the mad fool?"

Alice grinned. "He's no madder than you are, but I'll go and get him—he was upstairs trying to warm up after a bout with the weather." She turned and strode up the stairs, pausing and turning back to apologize to the Hare, "It may be a minute; I'm not sure where exactly he is."

"Take your time!" the Hare called to her retreating back. Idly, he fished in a pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a half-eaten Danish, downing it in a single bite. It always served well to carry about something edible in one's pockets. "Scrumptious," he commented to the empty room, "but it does need some syrup."

Noisy thumps from the stairs indicated Alice's return, and the loud argument that preceded their appearance was more than indicative of her companion's identity.

"You didn't have to go and _lick_ it!" Alice's voice simmered with irritation. "Now, not only have you ruined a priceless artifact, but you also have who knows _how _many years of dust carpeting your tongue!"

A patient sigh wafted down the stairs, and March grinned in outright amusement at how the Hatter addressed Alice. "Yes, dear girl," he explained, "I did. How _else _was I to be able to accurately discern the distinct flavor of that particular volume?" His voice was a bit thicker than usual, and the Hare could only assume that it was due to the rather large amount of dust that was asserted to be collected there.

The footsteps paused for a second as Alice fought and lost with her exasperation. "Books aren't supposed to _have_ flavors!" she all but hissed. "Books have genres, and pages, and bindings, and words, and tone—but not flavors!"

"Well," he said, resuming his loud stride, "I beg to differ. That one tasted strongly of boysenberry."

From the muffled stomps that followed, March determined that Alice was enacting her revenge upon the poor stairwell as she trailed along behind the ever-victorious Hatter.

Upon reaching the foot of the stairs, the Hatter paused, his gaze sweeping the den. "March!" he exclaimed, catching sight of his friend. "It's been to long!" He bounded over to the Hare and slapped him on the back, commencing a lengthy rendition of ritual handshakes and bad puns.

"Likewise, you barmy codger!"

Alice finally reappeared, a scowl fixed firmly on her face from her seeming defeat. She stood to the side and watched the friends parade around the room, the Hatter juggling coasters while the Hare balanced a tall vase on the tip of his nose. She shook her head. Madness always gained new meaning around those two. "I believe you said something about an invitation?" she prompted, stepping in just as the Hatter's smooth juggling faltered and catching the coasters that rained down to the floor in rapid succession.

Guiltily, the Hare stopped in his tracks, deftly depositing the vase on a nearby table. "Ah, yes." He cleared his throat, looking for all the world like an unruly child who had just been caught misbehaving. "Of course." He puffed up his chest importantly. "Alice, Hatter, I would like to invite you," he said in a dignified manner, "to tea tomorrow."

Alice's lips twitched. "Is that all? March, you needn't have bothered with all of the formality! We come over for tea all the time!"

The Hare's ears twitched, and his expression turned dour. "This is a special tea, you see," he enunciated with a scowl, "for the Queen has, unfortunately, chosen me to host her annual Royal Tea!"

As one, Alice and the Hatter groaned. "I thought we'd gotten out of that after last year!" the girl exclaimed, turning a despairing look on her companion.

He, in turn, looked thoughtful. "Apparently not, my dear. It seems that upending the chocolate fountain on the guest of honor and then taking turns dipping various foodstuffs in the resulting mess is not enough to ensure a cessation of such invitations." A slight frown settled over his features. "Pity, that."

Alice snorted. "That is the understatement of the year! A pity, indeed." She turned to the Hatter, unconsciously picking at the sleeve of her dress. "I suppose there's no avoiding it, Hatter." Her face was grim. "We'll just have to go."

"Well of _course_ we do! You know that's what the old hag had planned—either we skip out on this…esteemed assemblage of our so-called peers and thus earn the disgrace of Wonderland and the wrath of Her Majesty, or we are forced to attend on her terms."

The Hare watched this exchange bemusedly. "I thought you still took lessons were Her Majesty, Alice," he said, baffled. "Wouldn't that place you in her favor?"

Alice gave him a crooked smile. "Yes, it does, but the fact that I live with the Hatter essentially negates it." She grinned outright. "Any good standing I earn from excelling in lessons is promptly eradicated by the next misadventure we inevitably discover ourselves a part of."

The Hare was once again reminded of the astounding change the girl had undergone in her stay in Wonderland. Gone was the child who would hesitate to bend even the smallest rule of etiquette if it did not suit her fancy; in her place was a young woman who somehow managed to balance beauty, wit, decorum, and an insatiable imagination and sense of adventure. The Hare could not suppress a swell of pride as he considered Alice's development into this woman; he had played a small part in it, but he knew that the Hatter was the prime reason the depressed and stranded girl from before had transformed into a smiling, humorous young woman who no more belonged in England than any native Wonderlander.

He shook himself back to the present, giving Alice a beaming smile. "Good for you, my dear!" he praised. "You and Hatter here give that hag a run for her money!"

"We'll try to contain ourselves tomorrow," Alice said, laughing. "I would hate for you to get into trouble on our account."

Next to her, the Hatter nodded solemnly, his hat slipping over his eyes as he did so. "Indeed. No need for all of us to suffer!" He grinned at his friend. "We make no promises, though."

The Hare just shook his head. "I didn't expect any." He gave a little hop and peered up at them anxiously. "You will come, though, won't you?"

They nodded in tandem and assured the Hare that under no circumstances would they _not _be at his party.

"So, tea with me, sort of," the Hare concluded, showing himself to the door and waving a paw in farewell, "tomorrow at ten thirty! Don't forget." As the door shut behind him, cutting off the pair's declarations of punctuality, the Hare sighed, his whiskers twitching wildly. "Oh, dear." Tomorrow promised to be an interesting and eventful day.

The following morning dawned bright and sunny and frosty, all traces of the previous day's threat of debilitating weather eradicated, and the curtains in Alice's room ultimately failed to keep out the onslaught of sunlight. Despite the relative warmth of the rays caressing her face, Alice shivered, burrowing into her bed. December was after all still December, and Alice's room during that particular month was easily five degrees cooler than any other room in the house—having three large windows did tend to affect the temperature of a bedroom.

Squeezing her eyes shut to keep out the daylight that threatened to penetrate the comforting darkness of the inside of her eyelids, Alice tried to block out the hazy memory that hung on the fringe of her mind. It was nebulous, bordering completely nonexistent, but she had the most annoying inkling that she should be getting out of bed—and she really didn't want to.

However, she wasn't given a choice as the sunny voice of the Hatter floated liltingly into her bedroom, jolting her out of that indistinct realm between dreams and reality. "Alice," he called, his buoyant tenor carrying through the house. "It's time to wake up." How someone's overly-enthusiastic manner could be discerned when they weren't even nearby was a mystery to Alice, yet the Hatter certainly managed it. His sunny voice worked its way through her thick wooden door, leisurely traveling over to the bed to assault her ears.

"Mmmph." Alice desperately attempted to ignore him, rolling over and snuggling deeper into her covers. It couldn't be _that _important. She didn't have to go to court today, and she would remember any plans that she may have made with the Hatter… The warmth of her bed beckoned, and she buried her nose in her soft blankets.

"Wakey wakey, sleepyhead." His voice refused to go away, drilling into her ears with a force and irksome quality that she thought really ought to be made illegal. Yanking the covers over her head, Alice sighed, sinking into her mattress and trying to drown out his repeated appeals. Unfortunately for her, the Hatter's voice was one that was impossible to drown out, and it was unfortunately aided by the fact that he had decided that simply standing downstairs and demanding her presence was ineffective. She could hear the quiet sound of his footsteps down the hall as he clambered up the stairs, loudly humming some infernal song or another.

"Alice, we're going to be late." A rap at her door indicated that the Hatter had reached his destination, and Alice grimaced, bidding her peace goodbye. "Time to get up, sunshine," he called, knocking on the door once more.

Air whooshed out of Alice as she groaned, burying her head further in the pillows. "I don't want to…" she mumbled. She could hear him sigh through the thick wood of the door. "You're going to be late, you know," he remarked, as casual as if he were simply observing the weather—though the recent weather had incited remarks that were anything _but_ casual.

"I don't care." Alice's voice was heavy with sleep and muffled by the pillow that she had thrown over her head. Nothing of her body was visible in the bed, a lump underneath the bedspread the only indication of her presence. A small part of her wondered what it was that she was going to be late for, but she then pushed that thought aside in favor of the more appealing thoughtlessness of sleep.

Wood squeaked as the Hatter pushed the door open, the worn door protesting the abuse of its elderly state. He strode into the room, grinning toothily. Briefly, Alice considered jumping up and shooing him out—after all, it was _her_ room—but the force that kept her anchored in bed and cocooned in her warm blankets exercised a stronger pull on her. At least, it did until he stepped over to her bed and yanked those blankets away. Suddenly exposed to the frosty air that befits a three-window room in December, Alice reacted as any teenager would: she shrieked, snatched her blankets out of his slack grip, and yanked them back over her head. "Go away," she said through gritted teeth.

His own teeth flashed in a cheerful smile. "Now now, Alice, what do we say?"

"Go away _please_," she amended, glaring up at him with poorly-disguised irritation.

His grin took on a decidedly predatory appearance. "No can do, dear girl," he rebuked, reaching down and yanking her covers away once more. "We can't have you being late to the March Hare's-that-is-really-the-Queen's tea today, can we?"

Mumbling something incoherent to disguise her dawning realization (so _that's _what was important about today), Alice deftly snagged one of her blankets from between his fingers.

"You know," the Hatter remarked, carefully hiding a grin, "you wouldn't be as cold if you would wear heavier nightclothes."

Despite the fact that she was dressed quite appropriately in a long, conservative green nightgown, Alice inexplicably turned red, gazing down at her apparel. Even after years spent in the Hatter's company, her sense of propriety had yet to completely abandon her. "My nightgown is _quite _suitable, thank you very much," she replied snappishly, drawing her pilfered blanket over her chilled limbs.

The Hatter briefly considered stealing her pillows as well, merrily envisioning the grumpy reaction that was bound to follow, but regretfully shook the thought out of his head. It was time to change tactics. "Alice." He placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking her until her eyes shot open and she stared up him, bleary-eyed and betrayed. 'You're going to make us late for tea with our dear friend the Hare. Now, typically I'm all for tardiness—and I usually _am_ tardy, thanks to Time—but as our punctuality may or may not affect the wellbeing of one of my—and your—dearest friends, it would probably be in your best interest to get out of bed." He topped off this verbose speech with a slight narrowing of the eyes and a firming of the mouth, staring down imperiously at the lump of girl and pillows.

Defiant blue eyes widened slightly. "Is that today?" she exclaimed, feigning ignorance. "I had completely forgotten!"

Smirking, the Hatter grabbed both of her shoulders and jerked her upright, slowly maneuvering her away from the pillows. He saw right through her, of course, and had no plans to let her get away with her supposed amnesia. Alice she may have been, but she was also a teenager, and his being at least as immature at times did occasionally have its advantages.

"Stop it!" Alice swatted at his hands. "I am perfectly capable of getting up myself!"

"Stop it," he mimicked, grinning mightily and dodging her attacks. His hands shifted so that they caught hers, halting her half-hearted attempts to shake him off. "Now, hurry up, love, or we'll be late." Even as the words left his mouth he knew he had crossed some invisible threshold. Such an endearment had never been uttered, and he knew by Alice's surprised expression that she had caught his slip.

Delicate eyebrows shot up, but all she mercifully said was, "Love? How long have I been _love_? That hardly seems either appropriate or accurate."

He fluttered a hand dismissively. "Oh, about five seconds." His tone was lofty, and he looked down at her with a condescending gaze, masking his own confusion behind a haughty stare. Catching both of her hands once more as she tried to evade his grasp, the Hatter affected a more serious mien. "Now, really, Alice, you need to get ready or we _will_ be late."

Sensing imminent defeat, Alice made as if to get up. "I would," she said wryly, "if you would ever let go of my hands."

"Oh." He looked down at their connected hands with a bemused look. "I had all but forgotten." His hands released her wrists and traveled over to her nightstand. By some sleight of hand or thus-veiled talent, he drew a cup of tea (complete with saucer) from midair, raising it to his lips.

As he sipped, he thanked every known deity (and a few that remained unknown) for the lack of confrontation over his slip. Hopefully, Alice would just pass it off as one of his typical quirks and remain unquestioning and unknowing. His grip tightened around the handle of the tea cup. He _hoped_ that was what would happen.

Released from his grip, Alice jumped out of bed and began ushering him towards the door. "Get out," she commanded, pointing. "This is _my_ room, after all." She crossed her arms and waited for him to leave, crossing her arms and tapping her toes to disguise the confusion that now sizzled through her veins.

He had called her _love_. What did that mean? Was it just a term of endearment, a simple nickname, or was it something…more? Alice frowned, trying to recall if she had ever even heard that word pass his lips before. She then remembered the time, and the urgency of the situation, and jolted back to reality, casting the intriguing event to the back of her mind to be examined at a later date. "Out," she reiterated, pointing. "I need to get dressed, and you are currently preventing me from doing so by taking up space and oxygen in _my_ room."

Swallowing a sip of tea, the Hatter raised a contradictory eyebrow. "Ah, but Alice, you seem to forget that it is _my _house."

Alice groaned loudly and briefly considered yelling at him, but decided that it would not be worth the conversation and argument that would follow. "Give me fifteen minutes," she said, wisely opting to remain silent on the topic of his contradiction, "and we can leave."

"So long?" he inquired, pouring himself another cup of tea from a pot that he seemed to have procured from behind a lamp. "Really, Alice, I would think you only need five at best."

"And why is that?" she sighed, already foreseeing the answer.

A small smile appeared on his face. "Well, contrary to what _you_ may think, _I _think you could pull off a marvelous bed-head."

Alice opened her mouth to retaliate, then paused as her brain processed his words, mouth hanging open unflatteringly as she thought. Slowly, her mouth clicked closed, and she stared at him, flabbergasted. Was that, in its own backwards way, a _compliment_? It couldn't have been, could it? He _never _complimented her—ever. "Yes, well," she stammered, flustered, "that's all very well, but I will need fifteen minutes."

He had already anticipated this answer, and was halfway to the door by the time she had finished talking. His speed was obviously not in any way attributed to the fact that he had uttered not one, but two faux pas within the course of five minutes; no, he simply did not wish to disappoint the Hare. Yes, that was it. Definitely.

"Very well," he agreed, wrenching his mind back on track, "but fifteen minutes _only_." He tapped an imaginary watch. "Any longer and we'll be late."

She shooed him out the door. "Yes, yes. Now, go on! I'll be down in a minute. I'd say thanks for the wakeup call," she added sarcastically, "but I wouldn't mean it."

Turning to close the door, she found herself confronted with a full cup of tea; the teapot, it seemed had disappeared. "Here," the Hatter said, shoving the cup into her hand. "You need it." He gave her a salute and did an about face, striding out of the room. "Remember," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway, "fifteen minutes only."

It was only when Alice had set aside the tea cup and turned to her bedside table that she realized there was no tea left in the cup.

Twenty minutes later saw an immaculately-groomed Alice waiting impatiently by the door, tapping her foot and glaring up the stairs. "Typical," she muttered. "I get fifteen minutes, but _he_ gets as long as he needs." She raised her voice. "We're going to be late, you know!"

"On the contrary," he appeared at her elbow and swept his hat onto his head, the perfect image of serenity, "we'll be right on time."

Repressing a snort, Alice slipped her arm into the crook of his and tugged him out the door. Nothing further was said, and nothing needed to be. They settled into a comfortable silence throughout the walk, the Hatter gazing idly at the frost-tipped tree tops while Alice's gaze remained resolutely fixed on the road.

Holding tightly to the Hatter's arm, Alice forced herself to focus on the physical walk to the Hare's garden instead of the biting cold that threatened to overwhelm her. She could remember when she used to _like _winter, and would run eagerly outside at the first snowfall and dance around beneath the falling flakes. That had been back in England, though, in her other life—something she had done with her parents and her sisters. In England, though, she hadn't had snowball fights that spanned the entire day, or fenced with icicles, and she certainly hadn't had a Hatter to do all of those things with.

Shivering, Alice smiled. She would take Wonderland's awful chill—it was worth it.

The Hatter felt her tremor and frowned, reminded once more that Alice was not a fan of raw winter days. He quickened his pace, drawing her along the path. The walk to the Hare's was a short one, but it was made into an eternity by the overcast tone of the sky and the frosty wind.

When they finally arrived at the March Hare's garden, Alice's palpable relief would have been a source of no little amusement to the Hatter—if he had not been so cold himself. "I sw-sw-swear it gets colder every winter," he chattered, flexing his fingers in a vain attempt to revive them.

"I've been saying that all along." Alice was so cold that she could barely bite off the words, and she all but sprinted towards the warm glow of the Hare's garden.

Their furry friend had been quite inventive in the re-working of his garden so that it would suit the Queen's purposes (because she, of course, expected him to do everything himself). To combat the cold, he had enlisted the aid of no fewer than ten phoenixes, friends of the Mock Turtle and Gryphon who were quite intrigued by this mortal politicking. They sat along the fence, ruffling their feathers and glaring imperiously at all who passed by.

Ignoring the glare she received, Alice sidled up beside one of the largest birds, extending her hands towards its fiery plumage. "I'm not typically so forward," she said apologetically, "but it is so very cold."

The noble bird inclined its head fractionally. "You are welcome to warm yourself," it said, blinking one eye in what Alice could only assume was amusement. "We do not feel the cold, and we are content to allow you to make use of our natural heat."

Alice nodded gratefully and closed her eyes, the glow the phoenix exuded shimmering behind her eyelids in auburn waves.

"Phoenixes?" The Hatter strode over to join her, his casual pace belying his current uncomfortably low body temperature. He let out a low whistle as he edged up to Alice and her chosen phoenix. "March has really outdone himself." He nodded to the bird, eyeing its bright feathers appreciatively. "Beauty and heat—Her Majesty will be pleased."

Puffing itself up importantly at the compliment, the phoenix clacked its beak. "You are welcome to adjourn to the garden," it announced in an official tone. "Her Majesty and the Hare are waiting to receive you."

Grinning at Alice's muffled sigh of protest, the Hatter dragged her away from the warmth and towards the gate, straightening his hat as he walked. "Now, now, Alice," he chastised with a grin, "one would think you weren't excited to see your patron on this lovely day."

Alice glared, smoothing out her dress and fluffing her golden hair. "Of course not," she denied with a roll of her eyes. "Ridicule and criticism accompanied by the ever-present overtone of danger are experiences I eagerly anticipate, especially when I receive them from the most powerful woman in Wonderland."

"That's the ticket! Now, smile—we're here."

And indeed they were. Beautiful under even ordinary circumstances, the garden had been transformed into a breathtaking backdrop. The worn, casual tea table had been covered by an ornate white tablecloth lined with a pattern of red hearts, and the mismatched chairs had been discreetly exchanged for ones of gold and white. Even the drab surroundings that accompany winter were craftily disguised—Chinese lanterns and shimmering candles glimmered in the surrounding treetops, and the brown earth was covered by a thin film of powdery white snow.

Despite her lack of enthusiasm for the event in its entirety, Alice was impressed. The effect of the entire layout was nothing short of stunning, and the glow cast by the phoenixes lent the atmosphere an oxymoronic sense of convivial formality. "Well," she muttered, "here we go."

The Hatter squeezed her arm. "It will be over before you know it," he murmured under his breath, shooting her a surreptitious smile. "Grin and bear it—that's what you always tell _me_."

Alice had no opportunity to respond—their arrival had attracted the royal attention.

"Alice and the Hatter! How _de_lightful!" The Queen's booming voice cut through the low murmur of voices in the garden, and she strode up to the pair with a supercilious smile plastered across her face. "Come, dears. You _must _take a cup of tea with me and catch up."

They barely had time to nod before they were swept along by the hurricane that was the Queen of Hearts. Despite her words, the Queen all but ignored the Hatter, keeping Alice at her arm and drawing the girl away. Like a lonely dog, he trailed along behind, his glee at being unceremoniously ignored evident to all but the Queen.

Meanwhile, Alice was suffering. Contrary to anything the Queen might have said, it had only been the span of a few short (_too_ short) days since Alice had last seen Wonderland's tempestuous monarch; it had begun a typical lesson, and ended with Alice departing red-faced and fuming after a lecture on the improprieties of living so far away from the palace.

It was not a conversation she wished to revive anytime soon, and it was one that she had happily and successfully been dodging over the course of the past five years. "Your Majesty," she inclined her head accordingly, "how nice to see you again."

The Queen gracefully accepted Alice's required civility, initiating the next step in the ritual conversation. "Thank you ever so much, Alice," she replied. "I am glad that you and the Hatter were able to arrive promptly and presentably."

It came as no surprise to either party that she slipped in the presentably; memories of the last royal tea party were fresh in both their minds, and Alice cringed somewhat to recall the thick coating of chocolate that she had worn all the way home. Coughing delicately, she twined her fingers together, looking at them interestedly and avoiding the Queen's eyes. "Yes, well," she said, "that will not be an issue this time around."

Nodding in satisfaction, the Queen released her vise-like grip on Alice's arm and stepped away, eying the next group she planned to grace with her presence. "Very good. See that it doesn't." She swept away, skirts awhirl.

Slowly, Alice returned to where the Hatter leaned casually against a burbling fountain, her relief at the conversation's sudden end evident to even the least observant individual. "If that's all she has to say to me," she commented to him cheerfully, "then I am quite content."

The Hatter met her smile with a broad one of his own.

They stood for a while simply chatting and drinking tea and mingling with the others misfortunate to have been invited. Eventually Alice found herself drawn away from the Hatter by a few of her younger friends from court, pulled over to admire the new dress of one of their associates.

Left to his own devices in such a formal situation, the Hatter did what any typical male would do: he ate. Wandering through the garden, he nibbled at this crumpet and that cake, sampling pastries and puffs and pears and pralines and all sorts of party foods. After a while, when repeated desperate glances shot in Alice's direction revealed that she would not be leaving her own conversation any time soon, he sought out the Hare, determined to enjoy even the smallest amount of the party. Distractedly, the Hatter chatted with March until the Hare was called away by the calamity of twenty overflowing teapots, hopping away with a less-than-couth exclamation.

Shooting one last look in Alice's direction, the Hatter decided it was time he had some fun. The Queen was ignoring him--certainly he was free to do as he pleased! With a sly grin, he slunk off towards the grand tea table in the center of the garden, his ingenuous mind awhirl with mischief-making possibilities.

Alice's own conversation soon drew to a close, and she scanned the thinning crowd of guests, hunting for her errant friend. Finally, she spotted him lurking just beyond the central ring of guests, soliliquizing loudly to anyone who would listen about his delightful expedition into the peppermint forest he was cultivating in one of the upstairs bathrooms.

He ended his histrionics with a dramatic flourish and a beaming grin, and Alice drew near as the crowd began to disperse, her arrival promptin his grin to expand even further. "Alice!" his eyes lit up. "I missed you!"

At the bright flash of his teeth, Alice frowned. There was a suspicious-looking smudge resting just at the corner of his lips. She would recognize that particular shade of red anywhere. She passed a hand over her eyes. "Oh, you _didn't_." The utter dread in her voice dampened his cheerful mood immediately, and he deflated, grin fading and a look that would have been shame on anyone else creeping onto his face. "Please tell me you didn't." One shaky hand reached up to his mouth and wiped away the coloring, drawing back so that Alice could critically examine her finger. Her voice was fraught with ill-concealed horror. "You did."

Blue eyes narrowed accusingly, then darted wildly about the garden, searching for the Queen. Quick as a flash, the Hatter caught Alice's arm in a firm grip and began to draw her ever-so-slowly toward the unlatched gate. "I do believe we've overstayed our welcome," he said, keeping his voice low and avoiding Alice's eyes. "Don't you? We made our appearance—that should satisfy the Queen."

Lips pursed, Alice decided to postpone the impending argument until they arrived home. Just because she occasionally engaged in spontaneous acts of childlike frivolity did _not_ mean that she endorsed irresponsible behavior such as that the Hatter had recently demonstrated. There was a vast difference in an irresponsible lack of judgement and a responsible one. The frown on her face did not waver. "Why would you _do_ that?" she hissed. "You remember what happened the last time? What if she finds out that this time it was you?"

An enraged shriek cut off whatever smart retort was bubbling on his tongue and he winced, cringing away from the sound.

"Who ate my TARTS?!" The Queen of Hearts certainly did not appear genial now. Her voice built up from a whisper, escalating with each utterance until she was simply roaring with wordless fury. Her crisp black bun had begun to unravel, and strands of hair hung limply beside her red face in wispy strands, following the movements of her head as she whipped this way and that, glaring at the trembling guests.

"They were _right here_," she declared, jabbing a shaking finger at a conspicuously empty plate, "and now they are not! I want to know, and I want to know _who_!" She cast yet another wild, rolling look around the garden, and Alice's breath hitched in her chest as her patron's glare swept over to the Hatter and herself. Back and forth, a narrowing of the eyelids, then away—Alice heaved a soft sigh of relief.

With a grim, triumphant smile, the Queen's attention snapped back to the pair, focusing on particular at the palpably fidgety Hatter. "Guards," she snapped, holding her arm into the air, "arrest that man." She jerked her head at the Hatter, who promptly turned a ghostly white beneath his tan, all color draining from his freckled face and leaving him looking little more than a sheet.

"Place him in the dungeon," the Queen continued, taking unmerciful delight in the horrified looks Alice and her companion exchanged. "And, tomorrow…" She paused briefly to allow for a sufficient build of tension—and, indeed, the entire party of guests was hanging onto her every word with dismayed fascination. "And tomorrow," she continued, "_off with his head!_"

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Oh, the cliffhanger! I'm so cruel, but I must admit it is very fun!

Reviews are love, and have the potential of motivating me to write and post the next chapter quickly!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.**

So, I didn't update _quite_ as quickly as I had planned, but I did manage to get a new chapter posted before the end of May, so I don't want to hear too many complaints. I am going to use a chaotic end of the school year as my excuse this time.

Anyway, here is your new chapter! As always, read, enjoy, and review!

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"No!" The cry ripped out of Alice before she could stop it, exploding into the silence of the garden. "You _can't_." Agonized, she ran at the cards that held the Hatter, determined to help, to get him free, to do _something_. They couldn't take him away from her! He was the force that kept her sane, her anchor! With him gone…Wonderland would cease to be Wonderland for her.

Futilely, she pummeled the expressionless soldiers, her blows simply absorbed by their starchy paper bodies. Scowling, Alice tried a new tactic, ducking between ranks and into gaps in a desperate attempt to reach the Hatter. She darted this way and that, twisting and turning and maneuvering with every scrap of determination she possessed—but to no avail.

Faces blank, the cards simply shifted positions, shunting the protesting and struggling Hatter away from Alice and filling in the gaps with grim, impassive ranks. They parried her desperate lunges, stepping into each and every space she attempted to break through, pulling the Hatter ever farther away from his young friend.

"No!" Alice repeated, much quieter this time and so heartbreakingly desperate. She gazed at the swelling ranks hopelessly. The card soldiers numbered at least two decks now, swarming the garden and filling much of the space left by the rapidly-departing guests.

A few tears welled up in Alice's eyes before she blinked them away, leaving glittering tracks along her fair cheeks. What was she going to do? They couldn't just haul him off and execute him, could they?

At that thought, her mind flooded with the strong will that so characterized her. Alice forced herself to stand tall and proud, shoving the doubt and distress from her mind and filling it instead with determination and hope. There could be no room for grim thoughts or a weakening of her will. Hopelessness and despair gave way to a furious sense of determination.

She _would_ free him. She had to.

Turning on her heel, she marched up to the victorious Queen, who stood dominantly in the center of the garden, arms crossed and a look of superior satisfaction on her face. Alice bowed deeply, forcing herself into a presumed role of subservience. Years of lessons with Wonderland's monarch had at least prepared Alice for presenting pleas: one never begged, nor did one ever argue. One instead presented one's case in as logical a manner as possible and prayed that reason would prevail.

Unfortunately, this was the Queen of Hearts, and Alice had been witness to numerous trials and audiences that, while the defense was as logical as could be, were ultimately crushed beneath the Queen's will.

Still, she knew that she must try—the Hatter's life depended upon it.

Shaking, Alice knelt and raised her head to look the Queen in the eye. "Your Majesty," she began, struggling to keep her voice level and persuasive, "surely you see this is an unnecessary endeavor." Even as the words left her mouth, Alice knew they were to no avail. The Hatter was undeniably guilty, and any third party observer could attest to the Queen's blatant dislike of Alice's haberdasher.

One pencil-thin eyebrow crept up the Queen's forehead. Was the child actually daring to argue against the sentence? Incredible! "I surely do not. He is guilty; therefore, he will pay the price." Her lips twitched as she sealed them, whether to conceal a smirk or to refrain from speaking further, Alice did not know.

Alice closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. Those words were the ones she had been most dreading to hear—and not least because she knew they were completely true. She thought back to those few times when the Queen had exhibited shards of mercy, recalling the pleas and arguments that had succeeded. All had been reasonable to begin with, but had eventually dissolved into pathetic and slovenly displays of tearful pleas.

Alice tried to keep the desperation out of her voice, unwilling even then to experience such a loss of dignity. "_Please_, Your Majesty," she all but begged, the words pouring out despite her resolve, "don't execute him." Her breath caught in her throat, the words turning watery. "He's all I have."

The Queen simply stared impassively at the girl, refusing to answer, and Alice gave up and turned away so that the immovable monarch could not see the tears brimming in her eyes. The Hatter couldn't just _die_. He was unchangeable; he was joy and insanity itself, a constant fixture of Wonderland and the lives of its many inhabitants, of _Alice's _life.

"Alice!" The sharp cry cut across the garden. "Alice!" Eyes wild, the Hatter struggled against the cards that held him so that he could address the girl face to face. He wrenched his arms free and darted forward, diving underneath a most imposing ten card. Scrambling to his feet, he continued his mad dash, relentlessly rushing forward towards the front of the regiment until he was eventually subdued by three of the disciplined soldiers.

"What is it?" she asked, frantically ducking around ranks of card soldiers so that she could see him. She refused to think that this could be the last time she would see him, that he was going to be taken away from her, that he might _die_—

The Hatter's face was grave but smooth, reflecting none of the internal turmoil that was swirling within him. "Don't forget about me." He spoke intently, determined to impress upon her the importance of his request. "No matter what you do," he implored, "never forget the fun you've had, the bad times and the good, the time we've spent together."

"As if I ever could," she said, willing her voice to stay strong. She failed miserably, she knew, but the effort was there. A few tears trailed down her face. This was actually happening. They were taking him from her. She was going to be alone again.

The Hatter grimaced, shooting one of the cards that held him an offended look as it jostled his hat out of place. "I'm sorry for putting you through this," he said, wrenching one arm free to re-establish the position of his overlarge accessory. "I shouldn't have eaten the tarts, but they were so bright and forbidden…" he trailed off, his eyes glazing over in reminiscence. "And the _sugar…"_

Alice could have screamed. Here he was, about to be hauled away and executed, and he was being nostalgic about tarts? She pinched the bridge of her nose, losing some of the urgency that had been fueling her fervor. "Snap out of it," she commanded irritably, snapping her own fingers in front of his face. "You're still under arrest, remember?"

His gaze snapped back into focus. "Ah, yes. Quite right." Turning to his captors with a quirky grin, the Hatter clapped his gloved hands together in a businesslike manner—or he tried to, anyway. They were still held by three very ferocious-looking cards. "I believe this is the part where you 'take me away,'" he dictated.

Turning back to Alice, his humorous mask slipped briefly, revealing the agony that was tearing at his heart. "Alice, don't forget me," he asked once more. "Forget me, and you forget yourself. You'll forget who you've become." The Hatter shook his head intently. "I don't want Wonderland to lose its Hatter _and_ its Alice."

They had one moment where their eyes met, a split second suspended on the threads of the universe. Time seemed to stop for the pair, Alice's eyes fastening desperately onto the Hatter's, locking onto those lively, fathomless blue orbs in one last desperate attempt to convey what words could not say.

The Hatter looked long and hard at Alice, his own eyes widening in shock at what he saw reflected in her face. He opened his mouth, determined to speak, to finally put out in the open everything he had been keeping secret—and then he was gone, the cards wheeling about in formation and hauling the Hatter out of the garden and down the long, winding road to the palace.

Alice was left alone in the diminished garden, the only guest not to have taken the opportunity to disappear. She stood in the spot where the Hatter had left her, swaying as her legs threatened to give out.

Two small, furry arms wrapped around her, holding her steady and preventing her from toppling over where she stood. "Alice…" The Hare looked sadly up at her, released finally from his obligations as host as the Queen of Hearts swept out of the garden. He had been forbidden from assisting his friends, held in place by some of the Queen's extra soldiers.

The girl trembled. "March," she asked shakily, resting a hand on his head, "what are we going to do?"

His ears drooped. "I don't know, Alice," he said dejectedly, "I just don't know."

They stood together for a long while, the blonde with the torn soul and the Hare with the tormented mind. Defeat was never an easy concept to deal with, and this case in particular was one that left a gaping chasm of pain. Finally, Alice shook herself out of her stupor. "This is not going to help," she declared shakily.

Even in England, Alice had never been one to take no for an answer. Five and a half years spent in Wonderland had taken this quality and ripened it, developing so that Alice was now a tenacious young woman who would fight for even the most hopeless of causes. She straightened, flooding with some reserve of inner strength that had been spared, driving out the overwhelming sense of defeat that plagued her. "I'm going to the palace," she declared, "to make a case to the Queen, and I _will_ be coming home with the Hatter."

"And when I get back," she added, with a trace of her traditional authority, "we _will_ be discussing the questionable logic of touching what doesn't belong to you." Her lips thinned. "_When_ we get back." She repeated it to cement it in her mind, make it so no other possibilities existed.

Oblivious to the bite of the cold, she hurried out of the garden and onto the road, beginning the long, lonely trek to the palace.

"…and that is exactly why you should release me," the Hatter concluded, his voice echoing throughout the cavernous throne room, "and _not _cut off my head." He tugged at an ear in demonstration, grinning cheekily up at the glaring sovereign on the throne. "We're rather attached to each other, you see."

He had long since found that laughing in the face of imminent death was much more enjoyable than quavering in fear and submitting to the demands of one's captor. What good was the delightful partnership of madness and insolence if one made no use of it?

Nevertheless, he knew logic had a place in any argument with the Queen as well, and he drummed his fingers against the brim of his hat, lost in thought. "Alice's wrath will be far more painful to bear than any punishment you might mete out," he finally continued with a wince, eyes hazing over as he envisioned the possibilities. Should he survive, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Alice's despair gave way to a righteous fury. She would become the adult, he the child to be castigated.

Drawing her brows together, the Queen strengthened the intensity of her glare, rising and descending from the dais to prowl about the kneeling Hatter like a hawk circling its prey. "You ate my tarts," she accused. This was not a light accusation; the Queen's tarts were the sweetest in the land, slaved over by the finest chefs in Wonderland and reserved solely for the Queen's own taste buds.

"And that I did." He spread his arms out appealingly. "To be fair, though, I've eaten a lot of tarts. I must commend you, though—I've had none that were finer." He continued to babble on in an annoyingly perky voice about tarts and teas and sugar and anything whatsoever that popped into his mind. _Keep her distracted, lad,_ his subconscious all but screamed, _and perhaps she'll keep you around_.

Finally, the Queen had had enough. She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes wearily and flinging up a hand. "Enough," she commanded. "I have other matters to deal with at the moment. To the dungeons with you for now, Hatter, and then we will see." Waving a hand, she summoned a guard forth from the side of the chamber.

The card hauled the insolent haberdasher to his feet, propelling him up and out of the throne room and into the dark, adjoining hallway. As the last glimpse of orange flashed out of sight, the Queen of Hearts clapped her hands. "You may enter," she called to the next subject waiting for the royal reception.

At the far end of the room, one of the two tall doors swung open with a loud creak to admit a slim, fair figure. The bright sunlight behind the girl gave her an almost ethereal appearance, casting her in a bright, golden glow that was a harsh contrast to the dark expression that danced across her face.

"Alice." If the Queen were capable of expressing affection, then she would most certainly have been demonstrating it. The frosty tone she had adopted when addressing the Hatter had all but thawed, and she spoke to Alice with what could almost be equated to—and would have been in any other person—warmth. "What business do you have here, child?"

Alice's lips pursed as she stared down the long, familiar, red floor, her eyes narrowing as her gaze honed in on the ornate throne that sat at the end. No audience with the Queen ever ended predictably… She squared her shoulders and marched forward, striding forward until she was gazing up at the raised figure on the dais. "I've come to ask for the Hatter's release," she declared.

The statement reverberated in the empty room, lingering as if to stress the absurdity of such a request. Alice winced at the volume of it, and then shrugged it aside, continuing her speech. Her mouth twisted into a disapproving frown. "He may be a foolish, unthinking, made imbecile, but he's…" She paused, refraining from finishing that particular thought, and continued instead with a safer alternative, "Well, I would ask that you spare him and release him to me."

"And if I say no?" The Queen folded her arms across her chest, looking sternly down at the antlike figure beside her throne. Very few people had ever dared to challenge her, and she was sorely impressed with Alice's audacity, though she would never show it. Nevertheless, the girl _was_ daring to dispute the authority of the Queen of Hearts.

Alice swallowed, bunching a fistful of her skirts up in her fists. "If you say no…then he dies." Her voice shook. "Please, Your Majesty…" It was the closest she had ever come to begging for anything.

The Queen sat in silence for a long moment, toying absently with the scepter that rested across her lap. Her mind was already made up. She knew the Hatter, and she knew Alice—and she knew what her decision would be. "Done," she finally declared, and reached around behind her to detached a small steel key from the back of the throne. Tossing it to the astounded Alice, for the Queen _never_ surrendered _anything_, she nodded decisively. "He's your problem."

"You—you're letting him go?" Alice could not believe her ears. "He's free?" She shook her head, confused.

Leaning back disinterestedly in her throne, the Queen heaved a long-suffering sigh. "If you go and retrieve him, he's yours." Her dispassionate tone belied her keen interest in the situation, and she watched Alice carefully. Far be it for anyone to suggest that she harbored any sort of fondness for the girl; all it took was one witness to their lessons together to dissuade _that _notion.

However, the signs were there for the careful observer: where a courtier was required to attend a regimented number of social events, Alice attended none; when the palace library failed to contain any new and interesting books, an impressive number managed to appear overnight; on a particularly fine spring day, Alice might be observed cavorting happily about outside, released early from a tedious lesson when "royal business" arose.

The Queen shook her head. There was just something about this girl… Different though Alice might have been, she had become an integral piece of Wonderland, and a piece that the Queen inexplicably wanted to keep content. If that meant relinquishing the Hatter, well, then so be it. At least the dungeon would be quieter.

Stammering her thanks, a very bemused Alice took advantage of the Queen's uncharacteristic distraction, clutching the key tightly in her fist and darting into the adjoining corridor. Her feet pounded along the stone floor, beating out a frantic rhythm as she ran. Gasping, she picked up the pace, the exhilaration that accompanied her unexpected victory spurring her to greater speeds; she was going to free the Hatter!

In the dungeon itself, the Hatter sat dejectedly in a tiny cell. He remained relatively presentable, the morning's finery in good condition but for a small tear in his sleeve; it helped that he hadn't put up much of a struggle once the cards had carted him away.

The cell itself was dark, furnished with only a single wooden bench shoved up against the moldy walls. Light trickled in through a tiny, barred window, creating a fiery path across the dark stone floor. In the corner, a small spider had spun a silky web, creating a comfortable little abode for itself against the dingy stone blocks.

Desolate, the Hatter knelt before the barred door, his hands curled around the iron that caged him. He just _had_ to forget himself and do something insane, didn't he? Insanity ran in his blood, but it had been a long while since he had let himself go so badly and performed such an illogical act.

Life had been going so _well_. He had been happy, _Alice _had been happy…

He heaved a sigh and bent his head against the rusty metal, ignoring the scratches he received as bits of brown, coarse iron flaked off against his skin. The Hatter closed his eyes and sank into the dubious realm of introspection. He doubted the Queen would truly execute him—she had declared him headless on no fewer than twenty occasions, and had yet to follow through with any of her proclamations—but he had no doubt that he was condemned to a nice, long stay in the palace dungeon.

Mumbling incoherently, he pressed his face up against the bars of the cell and stared vacantly at the opposite wall. Imprisonment wouldn't be so bad, he mused, if there were only something to _do_. He counted the stone blocks that formed the opposite walls, making it all the way to thirty before he sank once more into boredom. Sighing again, the sound reverberating in the otherwise-empty dungeon, he knocked his head gently against the bars. He hated solitude, and he hated boredom—and here he was, alone and with nothing to do.

Closing his eyes, the Hatter sank back against the barred door, turning his back on the hallway and hope.

A loud clang and a jarring of the door that supported him yanked him back to consciousness sometime later. Groggy and disoriented, he swatted at the air. "Nngh…don't wanna," he muttered. "G'way, Alice." His eyes fluttered, the grimy cell slowly coming into focus as he re-familiarized himself with his surroundings.

"Very well, then," a light, amused voice from some feet above him remarked. "I'll just leave your foolish self in there. Heaven knows you deserve it."

_That _woke him up.

"Alice?" The incredulous exclamation burst from his lips as he scrambled to his feet. "How—?"

She shrugged one shoulder delicately, declining to answer. Absently, she fiddled with the single key that dangled from the ring around her finger, swatting it back and forth with the index finger of her other hand.

In return, the Hatter raised an eyebrow, expectantly awaiting an explanation.

Alice, however, refused to give way, simply staring at him with a smug look smoldering in her eyes. After his foolish actions, he deserved to be left in suspense; what did he care about the details of his release so long as he _was_ released?

Sensing that Alice was not prepared to succumb to his silent demand for more information, the Hatter switched tactics. "Fine!" he huffed exasperatedly, throwing his arms into the air. "Thank you for coming to rescue me." He rose from where he had been uncomfortably slumped over on the floor, dusting grime and flecks of dust from his clothing and smearing the rust from his forehead. "Will you let me out now?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Alice placed the key next to the lock, staring at it thoughtfully. "How do I know you won't just turn around and get yourself _arrested _again?" Briefly, a spasm of anger passed across her face. "Here you are, sitting in your little cell, quite content and apparently unaffected by today's experience." Her eyes flashed. "I thought you were going to _die,_" she hissed. "How do you think _I _feel?"

He cast his gaze to the ground, eyes shadowed and haunted. This was not the figure of a man prepared to argue. "Alice...I'm sorry. I truly am. I would never wish any sort of pain upon you." The words were simple, but the apology was soft and sincere and so different from his usual joviality.

Alice was forced to relent. "Come on, then," she said. With a click, she turned the key and swung open the heavy iron door, extending one hand into the cell. "Let's go home."

The pair made it out of the palace without further incident, traveling along the worn road in complete silence. Both Alice and the Hatter were lost in thought, minds churning and thoughts in disarray. As they finally approached the house, the anger and irritation and fear and desperation that had been propelling Alice through the day exploded out of her, forcing itself out of her mind and into the silence of the walk.

"_What _am I going to do with you?" Alice raged, coming to a sudden halt. He jolted to a stop behind her, donning a guilty expression. Furiously, Alice paced back and forth before the Hatter. They had stopped just shy of the house itself and stood in the foreground of the Hatter's large estate, and he recognized that they might be outside for quite some time. Grimacing, he seated himself contritely on a rather lumpy rock while Alice stormed around on the barren ground before him. Her temper had boiled over, and now she was stuck mid-rant in the frigid December weather, unable to do anything but continue.

The irresponsible teenager of that morning had long since departed and been replaced by a justly-irate adult.

"You could have been _killed, _but did you care?" she ranted. "Nooooo, you just had to go and eat the Queen's bloody tarts!" Her mouth worked furiously as more words than she could vocalaize fought to break free.

"Strawberry, actually," he interjected with the ghost of a grin. "The tarts were strawberry."

At Alice's answering scowl, he settled meekly back on the rock, making a great point to zip his lips closed and seal them with an imaginary key.

"For some reason," Alice said, "you got lucky. For some reason, the Queen likes me. For _some_ reason, she and most of Wonderland seem to think that I _need_ you." She sniffed, intensifying her scowl to mask her relief and to hide the fact that she was in complete and utter agreement with the Queen. "I need no such thing, and believe me, I was sorely tempted to just leave you in that cell."

He winced and held up his hands. "I know, Alice—"

"Don't 'I know, Alice,' me! You have no idea what I was feeling! I thought you were going to _die_, that the Queen would haul you off to who-knows-where and _kill_ you, that nothing I could say or do would change that, that—"

"That I would never seen you again, never hear your laugh or be on the receiving end of your ire, that you would be alone and friendless in a world that was no longer yours, that there would always be things left unsaid between us?" It was the Hatter's turn to interject now. His tone was uncharacteristically solemn, and he stood slowly, rising from the rock to pace before Alice. "No, I wouldn't know that." Grinning a wry, humorless grin, he rocked back and forth slowly on his feet, looking intently at Alice.

Alice gaped, for once left with nothing to say.

An icy wind blasted through the frozen landscape, and she shuddered, suddenly reminded they were standing outside in the middle of a frigid winter afternoon. Turning quickly away from the Hatter—_because you don't want to see what truths his eyes hold_, a nasty part of her conscious whispered—she strode quickly toward home, determined to warm herself and escape the awkwardness.

Alice soon found herself settled in the thick armchair before the fireplace, biting her lip and avoiding looking at the man who was stirring up a warm, roaring blaze in the cold stone fireplace. Her mind churned, roiling with confusion. Why did nothing ever make any sense?

For his part, the Hatter remained silent, perching on the armrest of the sofa when he had established a crackling blaze. His tongue fizzed with the taste of countless words and apologies and confessions that clamored to be let out, but he held them back, waiting for Alice to initiate the next step of conversation.

She, it seemed, was not in any hurry to do so; they sat for a while in a silence broken only by the fire's crackle.

Finally, Alice could bear the silent suspense no longer. "How did you know that?" she asked, turning to look at her companion with wide blue eyes. She was terrified—terrified that he knew her secrets, that he knew her so well, that she should be that obvious to _anybody_, that he knew how she felt…

His face registered a modicum of surprise, as if she need not even waste her breath on the question. Opening his mouth, he paused and then closed it, staring intently at Alice for a long moment. Finally, he sighed, closing his eyes and sagging forward with the weight of his confession. "Because I feel the same."

And there it was: the elephant in the room, stumping in with a loud trumpet, parading its heaving bulk around between them.

Alice shook, her worst fears simultaneously denied and confirmed. It wasn't just her, she wasn't freakish or overcome by irrational emotions, she wasn't the only one mad enough to feel as she did—_he felt the same way_. She twisted her hands in knots, waiting for him to make the next move. She wanted desperately to speak, but could not get enough of a handle on her own emotions to be able to voice them.

The Hatter, too, was horribly afraid. Had he said too much? Would she turn and flee to the palace and the Queen, leave him never to return? He hadn't lied—he could not live without her. He closed his eyes, fluttering dark lashes against pale freckled skin. To have the secret out was a relief; to not know anything more was torture.

Finally, Alice mustered up the courage to speak, raising her eyes from where they had been focused on her lap-ridden hands to meet his simmering eyes. "What—" Her voice cracked, and she wet her lips and began again. "What now?"

He stared at her for a long while, and she froze beneath his intense scrutiny, suspended in time beneath the Hatter's gaze. An internal war was raging within him, two possibilities fighting for the opportunity to occur. He knew which he preferred, but…

Looking at Alice, his mind was made up. They had come this far already—the damage had already been done. He met Alice's eyes with a small smile and rose from the couch, slowly stepping towards her seat. His movements were gradual, taking him toward her at a cautious, leisurely pace, as if he were approaching a skittish animal afraid of contact.

Finally the Hatter drew up before her chair. He looked down at her, searching her expression for any indication that she wished for him to back away. He found none. Reaching one hand down, he curled his fingers around hers, taking her hand in his gentle grasp.

Alice started as her hand was enveloped in his warm grasp. For a moment she froze, unable to move or even breathe. They had touched before countless times, but never before had his touch set her nerves aflame, leaving her hand tingling where their skin connected.

Her fingers twitched in his, slowly curling about his hand.

The Hatter smiled. In one smooth motion, he pulled Alice up from the chair and into his arms, holding her close. His one hand shifted from hers, moving to her back to hold her to him, and the other buried itself in her hair.

Everything was moving so fast for Alice. She buried her face in his chest, overwhelmed and unwilling to meet his eyes.

The Hatter remained still, his only movement the gentle caress of his hand through her hair. Occasionally, he did understand the value of silence, the importance of patience; this was one of those times. Alice was unique, a treasure that he could not risk damaging. He could not afford to lose her now.

Slowly, her hands wrapped around his back, returning his embrace, and she sighed into his chest. Gradually, her face drew away from his coat, but still she hesitated, keeping her eyes downcast. She was terrified of what she might see in his, that it might be less than what she was hoping for, that it might be _more _than what she was hoping for…

"Alice," he said. She could feel his head shift above hers in such a manner that she knew he was looking at her with that frighteningly intense gaze. "Alice, you asked, 'What now?'" His voice was little more than a whisper, a slight exhalation with the careful words caught up amid them.

Gently, he placed one hand beneath her chin, tilting her face up so that she had to meet his eyes. Blue locked on blue, and Alice's eyes widened at the depth of the feelings she saw reflected there. It had been there all along, hidden by his refusal to let her see and by her denial of its existence.

She leaned into his feather-light caress, his warm, calloused hand cupping her cheek in the gentlest of grips. Her profuse vocabulary had all but abandoned her, and she struggled desperately to speak coherently. "That I did," she finally said, keeping her eyes anchored on his. Puzzled, she drew her eyebrows together. "What of it?"

"Well," he said, a bright glint in his eye, "simply this." Drawing his free hand around to her face, he cupped her chin in his hands. He leaned his head towards her until they were scan centimeters away from touching, their lips separated by only the barest bit of air.

Alice's breath hitched in her throat, and her eyelids fluttered and then closed. She could smell him, was awash in his very presence. The Hatter surrounded her very being, encompassed her senses and emotions. A bit of her trademark courage returned, and she raised herself up and closed the gap between them, brushing their lips together.

The Hatter thought he had to be dreaming. Only the very real feeling of Alice's lips against his kept him from pinching himself to see if the moment was actually one of fiction. He had long hoped for this day to come, but had long ago written off any chance of Alice's reciprocating his illogical feelings as a hopeless dream. For all he had known, she had simply seen him as a friend and a companion, some confused blend of a brother and a mad uncle.

It was quite obvious she thought no such thing.

Alice, too, felt as though she had strayed into a dream. It had taken her much longer to recognize her affections for what they were, masked as they had been behind layers of irritation and companionship and confusion. When she finally _had_ come to the then-unfortunate conclusion, she had simply buried it in the dark recesses of her mind and prayed that it would never surface.

Count on the Hatter to make sure _that_ never happened.

Their lips moved against each other, and Alice wrapped her arms around his neck, overcoming her reservations and moving closer. She didn't think about the fact that he was her oldest friend in Wonderland, that he was far older than she, that he was as free and fun-loving and insane as she was rational and mature.

The only thought that mattered to her was that he was her Hatter, and she loved him for it.

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Oh, happy days! Something romantic! And no, this is most certainly _not_ the end. There is much more fun ahead of us, my friends!

Remember: reviews are the only sustenance for we starving fan fiction authors!


	8. Chapter 8

Yeah, yeah, I know…it's been an entire month since I've updated. I apologize—I've been enjoying my summer break, and simply have not felt like writing anything until now. However, you shouldn't care now, because, lo and behold, here is a new chapter!

As always, read, enjoy, and review!

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"Ho! What villainy is this that I am struck blind whilst my fair maiden stands before me?" Thrashing about, the Hatter battered feebly at the large snarl of branches that hung before his face. "Be gone, vile shrub! Remove thyself from my path, so that beauty may be hidden no longer!"

So saying, he stooped and seized a stout branch from the forest floor and began a violent siege against the knot of wood. With quick, vicious strokes, he valiantly attacked his opponent, wood scraping futilely against wood.

"Or," a light voice remarked amusedly from somewhere just to the back of his left shoulder, "you could simply turn around."

The Hatter halted mid-strike and spun on his heel, his stick falling to clatter onto its brethren that lay liberally strewn across the path. "Alice!" he cried. "How is it that you stand before me, where but moments prior we two were separated, our love held at bay through the cruel inconsistencies of fate?"

Smiling widely, Alice answered in turn, "Had you but a head on your shoulders and a brain betwixt your ears, thou wouldst realize the benefits of legs." Rolling her eyes at the exaggerated speech, she smiled sweetly at him and gently patted his arm. "I walked around it, love."

He sighed dramatically. "Go on and ruin my fun, then," he lamented, pouting. A mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes then and he brightened, giving her a sly smile. The makeshift sword reappeared abruptly in his hand and he shouldered his way further into the thicket. "Follow me, Alice!" he called over his shoulder.

Shaking her head, Alice stumbled along in his wake with an ever-growing sense of trepidation.

_Thwack, thwack_. The clunk of wood on wood echoed throughout the forest, startling birds and sending them flapping into the air in a flutter of feathers and alarmed exclamations. With quick strokes, the Hatter launched a vicious campaign against the branches that impeded his progress, hacking away at any bramble or branch that was unlucky enough to be caught anywhere near the worn footpath.

A resigned smile on her face, Alice followed slowly behind, one hand raised in front of her face to forestall the stinging bite of the numerous branches that survived the Hatter's initial (and rather ineffective) assault. "Where are we going, again?" she asked, picking a stray, dead leaf from her hair with a bemused look.

Pausing in his forward push, the Hatter turned to share a secretive smile. "It's a surprise," he teased, knowingly tapping his rather prolific nose. Alice sighed and threw her hands up exasperatedly, trudging along resignedly in his wake. There would be no getting answers out of now, she knew.

Vestigial snow crunched beneath her feet as she trekked along behind him, a prominent reminder that winter had only just officially begun. It had been but a few short weeks since the revelations that had changed their lives, yet Alice felt completely content and at ease.

This particular day had begun innocently enough, with Alice awakening with a startled shriek to the Hatter's smiling face hovering alarmingly above hers. Despite the new definition of their rather unorthodox relationship, they had yet to progress past caring smiles and gentle touches, and the appearance of the Hatter in Alice's private room was indeed quite alarming to the young woman. He, of course, had seen no problem with the invasion, and had bounced happily onto the bed and greeted her with a bright, chipper grin and the demand that she feed him at once.

Alice, obviously, could not resist such a request, and found herself, as was generally the usual in their house, stumbling from bed to the kitchen to mete out enough sugar to constitute a meal in the Hatter's eyes. Really, it was quite absurd. He was a grown man, and _perfectly _capable of feeding himself; yet, as long as she had been a guest in his house, she had found herself somehow responsible for each and every meal.

Some things—in reality, most things—about their daily routine were apparently not fated to change.

Indeed, to the casual observer, nothing would appear to have changed at all between the two of them. Alice had always served as a caretaker of sorts to the rather domestically-helpless Hatter, performing the menial and rather boring household tasks that kept his home in tact and running. After their mutual discovery, her chores did not change; they simply became much more fun.

Where he once would have wrinkled his nose and laughed at her amusedly before walking off and leaving her to the dirty dishes (or impeding her progress by stealing cups and plates or by starting something as asinine as a soap fight), he now dove in headfirst (proverbially, in this case) and assisted her, enthusiastically drying dishes beside her as she washed. This in itself merited amazement, for the Hatter had never, for as long as Alice could remember, assisted with the dishes. She assumed he must have done them at some point, before she arrived, but that was so long ago and so far from being a reality that such an existence no longer subsisted in either of their minds.

However, the Hatter being who he was, drying the dishes became quite a bit more. He took it upon himself to turn it into a race, wiping of residual water with amazing speed and finesse, determined to outpace Alice. Also, being the one to handle the dishes last, he was also the one tasked with putting them _away_, and took great delight in discovering new and creative ways to see them back to their resting places.

In one particularly delightful instance, he opened the silverware drawer and, with careful precision, had launched every bit of silverware at the ceiling above. It stuck fast, the tines of the forks and the blades of the knives sinking into the soft ceiling (Alice could never be quite certain how he had managed to get the spoons to adhere).

"What are you _doing_?" she yelled, yanking her hands out of the sudsy water so that they could sit irritably at her hips. Her lips pursed into a frown as she glared at the grinning Hatter and the majority of their silverware drawer that currently inhabited the air five feet above their heads.

"Putting away dishes," he replied innocently, taking her bubble-covered hands in his. He looked earnestly into her eyes. "It will be a glorious thing to behold when they fall, Alice," he assured her. "I'm the master at silverware tossing!"

Abandoning her irritation, Alice let out the air she had gathered for her tirade in a huff, eyeing the quivering silverware askance and rubbing absentmindedly at her nose with one soapy hand.

The Hatter's eyes darkened almost imperceptibly and he suddenly leaned in very close to Alice, causing her to squeak and bump into the counter. "Now look what you've done," he murmured, grinning. His face loomed before her, filling her sight with freckles. One of his hands reached up and tweaked her nose, and Alice laughed to see that it came away soapy.

"I've gone and made a mess out of myself, haven't I?" she asked, grinning widely. Before the Hatter could answer in the affirmative, Alice reached between them and slathered soapy water all along the side of the Hatter's face.

His eyes narrowed. "It's _on_."

Fifteen minutes, two bottles of soap, and one ocean's worth of water later, the pair (as well as the kitchen) was thoroughly drenched, and leaned against the counters, laughing hysterically. Leaning against the soggy Hatter (_her _soggy Hatter), Alice fought to regain control of herself, letting out one last, gasping breath and then pushing herself away from him and standing up straight, struggling to catch her breath.

He didn't allow her that opportunity, stepping in close and wrapping his arms about her waist. Alice was sopping wet, her flaxen hair stringy and clinging to her face and her skin slick with residual water and soap—and he thought she had never been more beautiful. Before Alice could draw the breath to ask him what he was doing, the Hatter leaned in close and captured her lips in his. When the silverware finally fell behind them, landing with a clatter in the appropriate drawer, neither of them even noticed.

Trailing along behind the Hatter in the woods, Alice smiled happily at the memory. Their relationship hadn't changed in many perceptible ways_, _but the sign _were_ there, brought out in the form of light, gentle touches, the occasional, tender smile shared by the pair, and by the pronounced absence of that terse, awkward silence that had for so long dominated their otherwise-sanctimonious relationship.

Gone were the guilty, fleeing looks, the bewildering lack of explanations, and the overwhelming sense of confusion and emotional turmoil. All had been revealed. Both Alice and the Hatter were at peace with themselves and each other, and neither could ask for anything more.

The warmth of the memories temporarily warded off the cold, but the invasive chill of the late afternoon could not be avoided for long. Shivering, Alice drew her coat closer about herself, threading her gloved fingers under the thick, woven wool that protected her from the harshest of elements. The woods were barren and cold, occasionally invaded by a brisk winter wind that wound under and around the surrounding trees and shrubs.

Said wind teased Alice, fluffing her hair up around her face in a feathery cloud and sliding past her pink cheeks, caressing her chilled flesh with its brisk touch. Her breath met the air in thick, voluminous clouds, huffing from her chattering lips to collect before her pace. Alice shook, her body reacting dramatically to the harsh climate—it was _cold_.

Bent as he was on reaching his destination, the Hatter nevertheless retained an acute sense of awareness. As Alice released yet another shaky breath, he reversed his direction and was at her side in instants, warm arms snaking around her shoulders in a possessive hold.

"Are you cold, love?" he asked unnecessarily, his eyes gleaming with the overwhelming joy that the added possessive brought. His arms sat heavily around her, cradling him to him, and his hold was gentle despite the wry tint that shaded his question.

Alice answered with a shiver and a glare, flexing her numbed fingers with a grimace. "Something like that," she murmured through stiff lips.

He drew her in to his chest, encircling her with the warmth of his body and sheltering her briefly from the elements. Against her will, Alice allowed her head to sag into his chest, dismantling her infallible façade and allowing her intolerance to the winter chill to show. The Hatter sighed softly and rested his cheek atop her golden head.

"Ye gods, woman, you're freezing!" His tender touch had put the skin of his cheek in contact with her chilled forehead, eliciting a startled and quite vocal response from the rather warm-blooded Hatter.

Alice snuggled in closer to him. "And you're warm," she replied in turn, nestling her head beneath his chin. Mischievously, she freed her arms from his hold and reached up to press her frozen hands to his heated face, giggling as he flinched and quickly batted them away.

The moment of fun passing, Alice settled back against him, soaking up as much heat as she could. "You are quite warm," she murmured, closing her eyes and settling in against him.

He could not contest this fact—and indeed did not wish to—and simply held her close, willing some of his body heat to her shivering frame. How long they stood there, wrapped in a close embrace, the Hatter did not know. He simply stood and reveled in the feel of Alice in his arms, the reality of what he had for so long seen only as a far off and unreachable dream.

She was his, and he was hers.

Snapping himself out of his reveries with a quick shake of his head, the Hatter reluctantly drew away from his young paramour. "Come along, Alice," he chided, adopting a holier-than-thou tone. If we don't get moving, we'll _never_ get there!" He gave her an exasperated look to encourage her haste, acting for all the world as if he were not the one who had initiated the contact in the first place.

Alice shook herself out of the stupor induced by his warm touch (and his very presence, though she still would not quite admit to that one) and turned once more to follow him, desperately willing all of the body heat that had been transferred to her to remain a while longer.

Winter no longer seemed quite as cold or unbearable when she had a nice, warm Hatter to hold her –and what a thought that was! She smiled to herself as she followed along in his wake. Who would have ever thought they would be united in their feelings? Alice could never have dreamed that her affections for the Hatter would in fact be reciprocated.

Wonderland, ruled as it was by the bizarre and loose-tongued, had taken the information in stride; this had not, however, stopped the news from becoming the most-circulated and oft-repeated tidbit of gossip since the unfortunate circumstance that had befallen a young member of the house of Spades a few years prior. Tongues wagged as the word spread that young Alice, who had been living with that mad Hatter for all these years in the most _improper_ of living arrangements, had gone and fallen in love with the very man who hosted her. Of course it had happened, it was inevitable, he was simply using her, she was using him, there ages were too varied for any good to come of it, they had been together from the beginning, oh that was _old _news, dearie—the responses were as varied and eclectic as Wonderland's numerous inhabitants.

An amused smile played about Alice's lips as she strolled along, her thoughts temporarily keeping the cold at bay. So lost in thought was she that she failed to notice that the Hatter had come to an abrupt stop, halting in the middle of the path and waiting for Alice to catch up. She slammed into his back with a solid, thud, the air whooshing out of her chest as they collided.

"Are we there?" she asked, staggering back from his solid torso and standing on her tiptoes in a futile attempt to peer over his shoulders.

"We are indeed!" He could barely contain his excitement. "I think you'll enjoy this, Alice."

Inching around to stand at his side, Alice peered curiously into the clearing. It was rather Spartan in its makeup, ringed by dormant trees and shrubs and flecked with the remainder of last week's snow, and there was nothing truly remarkable that Alice could discern about this particular location. It's only distinguishing feature was a perfectly round pool of water that sat in the exact middle of the clearing.

"What exactly _is_ this?" Alice asked, befuddled. She saw nothing extraordinary about the clearing; with all of the histrionics of the day, she had assumed they were destined for some bizarre, illogical location, not a silent pool in the middle of the woods.

His eyebrows shot up. "You've never heard of Looking Glass Pool?" he asked, surprised. "Why Alice, someone has failed in your education!" He nodded sagely.

The name sent a jolt of recognition tingling through Alice. "_This _is Looking Glass Pool?" Her gaze sharpened, taking in the finer aspects of the clearing. Though the trees lay dormant, they possessed a sort of earthy majesty, looming over the glorified puddle with a sort of intense dignity. The pool itself, though the brisk winter breeze stirred once more, remained absolutely still, free from ripples and falling debris.

The Hatter nodded. "It is," he said quietly. "I assume you know its significance."

At his question, Alice unconsciously snapped back into the role of student. "Looking Glass Pool is one of Wonderland's more…anomalous anomalies, showing anyone who looks into it either of two things: their heart's desire, or what they believe that they want most in the world."

Her companion blinked. "There's a difference?" he asked, intrigued.

"Yes, of course!" Alice smiled knowingly up at him, thrilled that she could adopt the role of pedagogue. "Your heart's desire is simply that: what you long for more than anything else in the world. It is the only thing that can truly make you happy. What you _believe_ you want most, however, more often than not simply leaves you feeling even more empty once you have obtained it."

The Hatter thought about this for a minute. "Many older and wiser people would tell you that was false," he said slowly, staring contemplatively at the pool. "Luckily, I'm not one of them!" He caught her hands in his. "Let's see which one the pool shows _us_!"

Alice found herself dragged forward toward the rather unassuming collection of water. "Haven't you ever been here before?" she asked. "I would assume you have, considering its close proximity to the house."

Staying his momentum, the Hatter turned to regard her seriously. "I've been here twice. Once, I was with an assortment of friends. I have no doubt in my mind that then I was shown what I _believed_ I wanted."

"And the second time?" Alice asked, with no small amount of curiosity.

"The second time…" the Hatter trailed off, as much lost in his reminiscence as he was in the histrionics of the recollection, "The second time I went was but a few short years ago. I saw—" He cut himself off, and Alice was surprised to realize that his cheeks had turned a rather dark shade of pink that had nothing whatsoever to do with the cold.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I saw you."

Alice felt what little heat her body retained flood up to fill her cheeks. "Oh." Her voice sounded soft, even to her. "Did you?"

He smiled gently and gave her cheek a light caress. "I did." His eyes glimmered. "The pool has nothing more to show _me_."

The full meaning of his words hit Alice like a sledgehammer, and she blushed even more ferociously beneath the intensity of his emotions. Rarely did the Hatter ever speak with such seriousness; she did not know quite how to react.

He read this in her and smiled knowingly, and then he skipped enthusiastically behind her and pushed her towards the pool. "Now it's your turn to look."

Alice's heart leaped into her throat. She knew what she _wanted_ to see, what she desired to see in that pool more than anything else—but she was terrified that it wouldn't appear. Heart fluttering, she stumbled over to the water's edge, eyes closed until the last possible second. When the toe of her shoe touched water she halted, opening her eyes and staring down into the still water with a determined expression.

For a moment, nothing happened. The clearing sat in a stagnant silence, the great importance of the moment blanketing the air and stifling all speech and sound. The Hatter leaned casually against a tree, arms crossed in a manner of supreme nonchalance and indifference. Only the barest quirk of his mouth and narrowing of his eyes indicated that he was simultaneously as curious and apprehensive of the outcome as Alice was.

Then, the water shimmered, the silken liquid parting down the middle to reveal a scene that left Alice smiling a smile wider than any other in her life. Her eyes shone, gleaming an iridescent blue as they filled with joy of the utmost degree. Stepping away, she sauntered over to the Hatter, a satisfied smile playing about her pink lips. "The pool," she said, "has nothing more to show me either."

All of his fears were released in that one moment, fleeing his mind in one mass exodus that left his head spinning. For a time, though Alice had professed herself to be genuine in her desire to pursue their relationship, he had feared that she had simply deluded herself into reciprocating his feelings, not wishing to injure him in any way. Such thoughts were asinine, he knew, and not in keeping at all with Alice's character, but it is nevertheless the tendency of the human mind to fret, and fret he had.

Alice observed the change in the Hatter, watching his countenance relax. "This was more than a fun afternoon jaunt," she accused. Her words were not a question. "It was a test."

"Of sorts," he replied happily, skipping energetically around the clearing. With the release of his apprehension, he felt lighter than air, and demonstrated such by jumping ridiculously into the air, rapidly flapping his arms and looking up petulantly at the towering trees.

Alice laughed, the pure sound reverberating through the trees. "I believe I will never understand you," she said fondly, giggling hopelessly as he tripped over a root and had to perform an odd pirouette in midair.

"I should hope not!" he declared, straightening and brushing himself off. "What good is insanity if it is understood?"

Their gazes locked, and Alice found herself drawn into his mind. They say the eyes are the gateway to the soul, and the Hatter's were that and more. Alice loved nothing more than meeting his eyes, for each time more of his self was revealed to her. She saw the Hatter that he often kept hidden by rollicking antics and pleas of madness—the Hatter that did chores, and felt fear and anguish and pain, and loved to read, and simply _loved_. Through his eyes, she could see all of this, and the intensity of it left her staggering.

The Hatter, for his part, was no fool; his eyes were an open book, and one that Alice was quite keen to read. Knowing this (and never one to let opportunity pass him by) he capitalized on her temporary stupor and quickly broke their gaze, whirling her into his arms before she had a chance to realize what had happened.

"Alice," he said quietly, locking their eyes once more, "I love you."

The words sat between them, weighted by their importance. These were words that meant so much to so many people, though they were few in number and lacking in syllables. With these words, relationships were either lost or deepened, and either way, once they were uttered things were never to be the same.

Alice stared up at him in surprise, lips parted. This was something she had not expected, and for a moment, she forgot to react. Then her brain kicked into motion and she blushed, looking up at him with her emotions in her eyes. "And I love you," she replied, reaching between them to trace the curve of his nose.

And there it was.

The words had been uttered, released by both parties and so in turn reciprocated. There could be no turning back now.

The Hatter felt an expression of pure elation slide across his face and he reacted to Alice's words with the first idea that sprung into his mad mind: that is, he bent her into a most dramatic kiss. His hand slid down to the small of her back and he dipped her backwards in a move reminiscent of the theater, careful to keep a tight hold on her even as he felt her smile against her mouth at the thespian nature of their contact.

The overwhelming cliché of the kiss, though, didn't stop Alice from thoroughly enjoying the moment. Her hands snaked up around his neck, her lips moving against his with an ever-growing familiarity. Kisses since that first day had been relatively rare, both parties wishing to take things rather slowly so as not to make any hasty mistakes, and Alice had yet to instigate any herself.

None of which currently mattered, of course. The Hatter took his time with the kiss, moving his lips against Alice's with a tenderness that any who witnessed the man's erratic and excitable personality would believe impossible. Heat flooded Alice's veins, driving out the cold more effectively than any fire, and her arms tightened around his shoulders as he deepened the kiss.

Had Alice's eyes been open, she would have rolled them at the overwhelming cheesiness of the scene. The surrounding environment had apparently decided it had a career in the thespian world and had taken on the role of romantic backdrop: the late afternoon sun had broken free from the low-hanging clouds and sent one, bright ray to shine on the clearing, its light glinting off the snow-flecked ground and causing the waters of the pool shimmer with all the colors of the rainbow.

As it was, she simply surrendered to the moment and appreciated the scene for what it was: completely and utterly perfect.

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No, it's not done. I promise, there is more to come! This was a shorter chapter than what I've been posting, but everything fit together so neatly I didn't want to add anything else (along with the small fact I'm enjoying a summer vacation away from society with minimal technological interludes). If I feel so inclined, I may go back through at a later date and add a bit more...it is extremely unlikely, though.

As always, reviews are splendiferous!


	9. Chapter 9

Yes, yes, I know it's been a while. I'm sorry. Summer was just far too enjoyable for me to think about writing much of anything. And, now I'm stuck in the lovely stage of filling out college applications (which, for the record, is a pain in the rear). However, I have not forgotten you in the least. Here is a nice, new chapter for all of you to partake of!

Oh, and because the site is being _charming_ and not allowing me to use dashed as pagebreaks, I've decided to use the letters 'pb' instead.

As always, read, review, and enjoy.

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To say that Alice was unhappy was an understatement of the utmost degree. She was exhausted. She was frozen to the bone. She was soaking wet. And she was _livid._

She hunkered down underneath a particularly large tree canopy, cursing the season as the thick drops of rain simply pattered through the bare, skeletal branches. Tiredly, she massaged her temples, wishing herself anywhere but her current location and state; a mere eight hours ago, she had been warm and dry and naïve—for, it is a simple matter of common sense that when two strong-minded, independent individuals find themselves sequestered away from society for an indefinite period of time, tempers are bound to clash.

Her life had been progressing so perfectly that she had failed to take note of the growing seed of irritation that lay close to her heart. She believed wholeheartedly in her love for the Hatter and his love for her, but as anyone who loves or has been loved knows, even those dearest to one's heart can be a source of no little annoyance and anger.

Unfortunately for Alice and her white-haired beau, a late-summer thunderstorm had torn through the area the previous day, uprooting flora and leaving a massive tree strewn right across the door frame of the Hatter's rather large home. He had other exits, certainly, but this storm, as most storms are wont to do, had also brought along a torrential downpour which flooded the moat and effectively trapped both Alice and the Hatter within the house.

Alice thought back to those apathetic days, recalling each and every conversation and interaction that had contributed to her current predicament. Lost in her memories, she relaxed, her head flopping back to the tree against which she leaned. Perhaps the Hatter hadn't been the _only_ one at fault..

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It had begun in the library, the swath of books strewn across tables and chairs a sure indicator of the Hatter's growing cabin fever. A steady stream of rain trickled down the ornate, gabled windows, its steady pattering lending the day a drowsy lethargy.

"I'm bored," the Hatter announced to the room at large, a petulant frown pulling at his lips. It was bad enough that the storm itself was into its second day, blanketing the sky with clouds as black as pitch and sending alternating trickles and buckets of rain hurtling to earth; to be forcibly entombed in the house was nigh unto hell for the high-strung Hatter.

He had nothing to _do_. He had begun the day making hats, but had quickly lost interest in that noble profession, abandoning it for a jigsaw puzzle of the most challenging design. The puzzle, too, quickly found itself discarded, this time in favor of a large pot of tea and a vast array of sugary treats—neither of which lent itself favorably to curing the Hatter's unrest. He even attempted to read, plopping heavily into a chair beside Alice and submerging himself on a fanciful novel plucked from one of his uppermost shelves. Strung up as he was on sugar, however, such a course of action had not lasted long, and he now found himself pacing the library like a caged tiger, on the prowl for something—_anything_—to do.

Alice, for her part, was relishing the enforced period of nothingness. She had been dragged halfway across Wonderland earlier in the week, and had been longing for some time to herself for the better part of a month. She loved the Hatter dearly, but he just never _stopped_. It was always, "Ooh, Alice, look at _that_," and, "But Alice, it won't be the same without _you_."

The man simply could not entertain himself.

Sinking further into her squashy armchair, Alice skillfully tuned out the sound of Hatter's complaints and loud footsteps and lost herself in her reading. Much as she loved him, she needed her time to herself as well. Regrettably, it was simply not meant to be at this time.

"Alice," the Hatter yelped, leaping over an urn and crossing the library, "I have an idea!"

She paused, her eyes freezing just above the start of a new paragraph. "What sort of idea?" Her voice was tinged with the sort of knowing caution that stemmed from plenty of experience with previous _ideas_.

"A good one!" he beamed.

Briefly, Alice closed her eyes, desperately wishing his exuberance was simply a figment of her imagination and that he would in fact be sitting calmly at a table with a book when she opened her eyes. No such luck. She sighed. "Alright," she conceded, setting aside her book. "What is it?"

His face lit up with an eager, child-like smile. "Let's play hide-and-seek!"

She groaned internally. "In the whole _house_?" she asked incredulously, not relishing the prospect.

He rolled his eyes. "No, silly, just in the library; it's plenty big enough!" And it certainly was that. The cavernous room, though the house gave no indication of it from the exterior, spanned the length of several normal-sized rooms and was lined with shelves of what had to be Wonderland's most eccentric collection of books.

What made it so suitable for the game, however, was that the Hatter had long ago adopted the practice of depositing various artifacts throughout the room when he tired of their presence elsewhere; the library also doubled, to put it plainly, as a storage room for junk.

Alice knew she had no choice but to play, and conceded with a sigh.

As she peered into pots and leapt lightly over what appeared to be a teacup a full three feet in diameter, Alice conceded that she _might_ actually be having fun. It was her turn to seek once more, and the Hatter was proving to be more elusive than usual. "Where could he be?" she mused.

Her eyes lit up as she saw the suit of armor in the corner give the slightest twitch. _Of course_. He had tried that trick before, back in the Queen's palace so many years before-in fact, if she was not mistaken, that was where the armor had come from in the first place. Concealing a grin, Alice adjusted course and headed towards the armor. However, her chance to officially "find" the Hatter was ruined by the fact that he sprang to attention in a loud clatter and took off across the library in a clanging, steel-shod sprint.

"You'll never catch me alive!" he whooped, drawing his sword from its sheath and waving it wildly in the air as he ran.

Alice debated whether or not to pursue him; he was bound to stop eventually, but on the other hand who knew how he might injure himself in the time between. Her decision was made for her as he tripped over a rolled-up rug, gained admirable lift, and landed with a metallic crash that shook the very foundations of his home.

"Oh my!" Alice gasped, running over to her fallen "hero." The sword, thankfully, had landed some feet away, spearing only an unfortunate pillow. Sorting through the gleaming silver rubble, Alice began plucking pieces of armor from the motionless Hatter, tossing aside greaves and pauldrons as she attempted to extricate the Hatter from the heavy plate mail.

He stirred, shifting slightly on the floor and swatting away her hand. "I can do it," he said thickly through the slotted helmet.

Alice drew back with a frown and watched carefully as he deftly stripped off the armor, discarding it in a pile beside him. What truly amazed her was the fact that he managed to do so sitting down. Her worry had dissipated by this point, leaving her with that lovely feeling of irritation that often follows.

"Do you ever stop to _think?_" she asked crossly, reaching down and yanking the Hatter to his feet.

He frowned, dusting himself off. "Do you ever _stop_ thinking?" he asked in turn, deftly shifting the conversation's focus. He tapped Alice gently on the head. "Too much activity up here has been proven to hurt overall productivity, you know."

Alice heaved a long-suffering sigh. "And how is that, exactly? I should think the opposite would be true."

Retrieving his hat from where it had magically appeared on the ground, he flipped it onto his head with a great flourish, sending it spiraling through the air in a great arc. "Exactly," he enunciated, eyes alight with mischief. "You _think_." Stepping closer, he placed his palms over her temples, fingers just grazing the fringes of her golden hair. "Don't think—just act. It's all _I_ ever do."

Alice's breath came a bit faster, her skin tingling at his touch. His presence never failed to make her heart accelerate. She forced herself to breathe, inhaling and exhaling with a calculated consistency. "And that is what gets you in trouble," she remarked distractedly, her focus rapidly diminishing as he combed his fingers through her hair.

"Yes," he murmured, leaning in close to stare at her knowingly, his eyes gleaming with azure intensity, "but you know what else it got me?"

Alice made a questioning noise—the only sound she was currently capable of making, as she was currently paralyzed and unable to perform all but the most basic of functions.

He chuckled, close enough that she could feel his chest's rumbling vibrations. "It got me you," he told her, before leaning in to claim the lips that were his and his alone.

Outside, the storm continued uncontested in the background, unnoticed by either party for quite some time.

That evening had found the Hatter in his companion in much of the same state of boredom as earlier, albeit in a different location and with reversed opinions. The Hatter lay stretched out across a sofa in the living room, for once stationary and silent.

Alice, on the other hand, was on a mission. Her brows drew together as she stalked her victim, eyes narrowed in concentration. Unconsciously, she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, scraping the flesh as she crept closer to her quarry. She had to be absolute in her stealth, lest she be noticed prematurely. Her timing had to be impeccable.

Unaware of his precarious position, her prey stretched, opening his mouth in a wide yawn.

She smiled and slunk even closer. How he could continue to be unaware of her she did not know—by this point there were scant inches separating them. Alice summoned a devious grin and drew to a silent halt. This was it—Operation Surprise was go.

With a loud whoop, she launched herself over the back of the sofa and into the lap of a very startled Hatter. "Gotcha!" Alice crowed triumphantly, wrapping her arms around his waist.

As the last vestiges of sleep faded from his heavy eyes, the Hatter smiled widely, his bewilderment quickly replaced by smug satisfaction. Eyes half-lidded, he waggled his eyebrows at Alice. "Yes, you do."

He leaned even closer, his smile growing, if possible, even wider. "Now, what are you going to do with me?"

Kissing him slowly on the lips, Alice smiled, her mouth twitching into a smile. "Well," she whispered, drawing away, "_I'm _going to retire to my room to read." She jumped off the sofa, her abrupt absence leaving him cold. "Goodnight," she called over her shoulder, sending him one last mischievous grin.

Alone on the couch, the Hatter shook his head. She was learning.

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Alice frowned at the memory, the discomfort provided by her current position doing nothing to lessen her irritation with the constant flashbacks to earlier in the week. Unfortunately, the storm had strengthened to the point where continuing along was suicide, and so she had been forced to take shelter beneath a large, rocky overhang. Rendered immobile, Alice unhappily had nothing to do but think.

She let out a choked sob, biting her lip to cut off any that might follow. _Why why _why _had she left?_ He had been foolish, yes, but so had she…if they had both contained their tempers, she would not be stuck under a rock in the middle of nowhere, cold and wet and alone.

A few more tears leaked from her determinedly-closed eyes, and her thoughts turned inadvertently to the day before.

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The deluge had carried into the following day, the ominous rumble of thunder awakening Alice from her slumber at an ungodly early hour. She yawned widely, stretching her arms above her head and peering incredulously out the window.

"Still?" she inquired loudly. "It's been nonstop rain for the past three days!"

The sky rumbled as if in answer, flashing with the light of some lightning strike high up in the clouds. Grinning slightly at that, she slipped out of bed and prepared for another day inside.

This day, however, was not to progress as seamlessly as the last had. Alice and the Hatter found themselves once more in the large library, this time resting after a morning of hunting for monsters in the closets—they had successfully evicted one from the magenta guest bedroom—and playing games better suited for outdoors along the hallways.

Understandably, Alice was tired. She had been on her feet since she had first awoken, and wanted nothing more than to relax with her book for an hour or two. The Hatter, however, seemed to have different plans.

He fidgeted, shifting restlessly from one seat to another, flipping through one book before discarding it for another. Occasionally he let out a maligned sigh, tilting his head just so in order to keep Alice within his train of sight. When she consistently failed to react, he got up and paced around the room, keeping his movements large and fluid so as to garner the most attention.

When the Hatter had walked past her for the third time in this manner, Alice had had enough. "You always do this!" she snapped, her irritated voice echoing throughout the cavernous library. Setting her bookmark in between the pages of her novel, she fixed him with the full power of her glare.

He came to a halt and turned to face her. _Finally, a reaction_. It was not, however, a favorable one, and he frowned at her abruptness. "Do what?" he replied, the mulish set of his mouth a sure sign of the argument to come.

"_This_," Alice declared, sweeping her arm out wide to encompass the entirety of the situation. "Everything. You can never sit still, you expect me to entertain you every waking hour—I'm supposed to be your equal, not your _mother_!" Her eyes crackled with long-withheld irritation finally set free, her mouth thin to the point of invisibility.

His own eyes flashed an electrifying blue. "I do no such thing," he challenged, striding to her chair to loom over her seated form. "I've been an adult much longer than you, thank you very much. I think I know how to take care of myself."

Alice couldn't help herself; she snorted, the derisive sound rippling throughout the cavernous room. "That's rich, coming from the overgrown child," she scoffed. One thin eyebrow lifted in an obvious challenge. "What responsibility have you ever accepted, other than looking after me for a few years?"

The tension in the room was tangible, the very air crackling with barely-suppressed emotions even as the storm outside raged.

"You have no right," the Hatter began hotly.

Alice interjected, smoothly cutting him off mid-sentence. "I have _every _right. I have lived with you for six and a half years, been courted with you for one, and rarely—if ever—have you assumed the role of responsible adult for longer than a few hours at a time. At the age of twelve, I had more maturity in my little _toe _than you had in your entire body!"

Affronted, the Hatter drew himself up to retort, his posture indicative of his aggravation. Unconsciously, he clenched and unclenched his fists, his mouth working furiously but emitting no noise.

Flinging her book onto a side table, Alice rose and stared him down, effectively cutting off his tirade before it even began. "I just can't do this anymore," she announced, looking down at her hands and then turning her defiant gaze on him. "You can just get on without me. I'm leaving—you're on your own now."

He sneered, the ugly expression distorting the friendly contours of his face. "You wouldn't leave," he declared, dismissing her with a flippant wave of his hand. "You have nowhere to go. Where would you stay? With the _Queen_?"

As soon as the taunt left his mouth, he knew he had gone too far.

Alice's eyes narrowed, her face flushing a deep, angry magenta. "Maybe I will," she hissed through tight lips, glaring up at him with ill-concealed venom. "At least she respects me and treats me as an adult, not a plaything to occupy her time!"

She turned on her heel and left the room, sweeping dramatically away from him and leaving all of the tension between them intact.

Quickly, she packed a bag full of clothes and her most treasured possessions, diving through drawer after drawer so as not to forget anything important. "He thinks he can command me!" she raged, scattering letters across her desk in her haste. "Ha! I'm no plaything to be controlled!" Satisfied with her packing, she shouldered the bag and strode to the door.

Alice allowed herself one fleeting look of regret from the threshold of her room, pausing and peering back into the quarters that had been her home for as long as she had been in Wonderland. Then, the pain and fury of the argument returned, oozing through her like molten lava and re-instilling her with a sense of furious indignation.

She shook her head and flung herself away from the door. It was far past time for her to depart.

As rapidly as she could, she navigated the labyrinth of hallways that criss-crossed the Hatter's home, making for the door most likely to offer her escape. It was a small door in the kitchen that opened to the woodpile the Hatter kept nestled up along the house. What Alice was banking on was that the product of a bored summer day remained by the wood; the Hatter had entertained the notion that it would be fun to sail around the moat on a raft, and so had dedicated the better part of a day to constructing a feeble little thing of firewood.

Alice desperately hoped he had neglected to take it apart. She could recall seeing it at least in October, but the winter had been cold, and she despaired to think that it had been dismantled.

Her fears proved futile, however, as the raft remained precisely where she had last seen it. Alice closed the door firmly behind her and clambered aboard the raft, marveling that it had not floated off into the flooded moat; the water level had risen even further, to the point now where it almost touched the home itself.

Seizing an oar-the man's multitude of eccentricies were certainly proving useful in facilitating her escape-she paddled with all of her strength, directing the rocky raft towards the opposing shore. It was hard going, but eventually she reached the other side and, discarding the raft, slipped off into the storm.

Back in the library, things were progressing much differently. The anger slowly drained from the Hatter, seeping out of him and leaving him a hollow shell. His mind whirled with thoughts, questions, doubt-_Was he wrong in acting as he did? She left! He was not _immature!_ She's gone! She shouldn't have said what she did. _She_ was wrong. She had to be. But, maybe...maybe he had been wrong. He should have apologized. He never should have lost his temper. He was wrong. She was _gone.

"Alice!" The Hatter's plaintive cry gave chase far too late, echoing down along the hallway long after she had departed. He had conceded his mistake only after her departure, realized his folly only after it had come to pass; by the time it came into his mind that maybe Alice had _possibly_ been right, she was long gone.

He ran in vain to her room, arms akimbo and coat flapping haphazardly behind him. "Alice," he called again, this time with a desperate sob hitching in his throat. Had he really lost her? They had come too far together for one careless argument to ruin such a firm foundation of trust… Nevertheless, the room that he entered was obviously abandoned, emptied of all meaningful clothes and effects.

Leaning on the threshold, the Hatter moaned piteously. "What have I done?" he mumbled, forcing himself to take a few, tottering steps through the open door. His eyes were open wide with painful realization as he took in the chaos that Alice had left in the wake of her hurried departure.

What clothes she had not taken were strewn across the room, littering the floor and neatly-made bed with their warm colors and vibrant patterns. Books and papers and pictures were scattered liberally around, their contents dull and lifeless now that their owner had abandoned them.

"No…" The softly-spoken word slipped solemnly from the Hatter's numb lips. She had actually _done_ it; she was gone.

He lurched to the window, staggering over the bunched up rug and accidentally sending a tall vase toppling to the floor. The following crash didn't even register in his mind; some distant part of his brain registered that the sodden flowers speckling the floor had been a present from him earlier that week, but he couldn't bring his tormented mind to care.

Pressing his nose to the pane, the Hatter peered out into the turbulent yard, squinting through the pouring rain in a desperate search for any sign of Alice.

_There!_ He caught a fleeting glimpse of a slight figure disappearing into the trees, head bowed beneath a great, black umbrella. Unthinkingly, he flung open the window and shoved his head out into the deluge.

"Come back, Alice," he bellowed, his hoarse voice echoing dully around the yard. "Please…" The addition to his plea was far too soft to be heard over the gale, but he nevertheless stayed where he was, frozen half out of the window, the cold rain plastering his matted hair to his face. Thick tears coursed down his cheeks, the salty liquid mingling with the icy water.

On the ground, the figure paused. A flash of blonde hair was the only sign that it had turned its head. It seemed to be thinking,.

The Hatter's heart jumped into his chest, pounding with sudden, anxious hope. Would she reconsider? Would she come back?

Just as quickly as it had begun, though, the moment was over, and Alice disappeared into the trees.

The Hatter withdrew from the window, chilled to the bone and soaking wet. He trembled violently—though from cold or an overwhelming sense of loss, he did not know.

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From where she now sat hunkered beneath her shelter, Alice reflected that perhaps leaving had not been the wisest course of action. The _one time_ she had acted rashly, and now she was coated in mud and water and chilled to the bone.

"I wish he were here," she admitted to herself, scrubbing at her eyes with a dingy sleeve. "I _do_." He could make something good of even the most miserable of situations. Lightning met the ground with a loud crack, sending the earth into convulsions and making Alice flinch. She drew herself as far beneath her makeshift shelter as she could, desperately wishing the deluge would abate.

As she sat miserable and alone, she could not know that, at that very moment, the Hatter was beginning his own quest to find her.

Thunder rumbled in the heavy clouds above, a dark growl that shook the earth. Feeling the ground tremble beneath his feet, the Hatter hastened his pace, drawing his hat further down on his head so that the brim shaded his face from the worst of the pouring rain. Lightning cracked across the sky and he winced to think of Alice, alone and unprepared and unprotected and facing the elemental onslaught. He quickened his steps, mouth thinning as he squelched through a mud puddle. Irrational behavior aside, he had behaved horribly, and he intended to set things right between them—no matter what the cost.

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And so, here it is! For those of you who follow this sort of thing, this is the penultimate chapter. I hope you enjoyed it...please review and let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Not mine, will never be mine.**

Do I know it's been ages since I've updated? Yes. Do I know you are all mad at me for taking so long? Yes. Do I care? Obviously, since I'm finishing the story. I won't apologize for the delay, though, as it was caused by much more important, real-life things (such as applying to college).

For those of you who actually read these author's notes, thank you. For those of you who review, thank you. Even when I don't have time to reply to each and every review, I do go through and read them all; I love reading what you have to say. And so, our story comes to an end in this final chapter. I could extend it, certainly, but it was always my intention to make it ten chapters, and to write it within 2010; I actually made completing this story within the year my New Year's Resolution, and I am proud to say that I accomplished it.

So, anyway, I would like to present the final chapter of Children at Heart. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! As always, reviews are love.

* * *

In her dream—and she would later discover she _was_ dreaming—Alice was warm and dry, out of the torrential downpour and away from the worst of the storm. In fact, there was no storm at all; instead, Alice was standing in the center of a rather large room inhabited by various pieces of furniture. Besides that, though, she had no idea where she was. She felt off somehow, as though her world had been upended and she had been dispelled into a foreign void.

Of course, that could just as easily have been caused by the presence of so many straight-backed chairs.

Alice stood in the center of the room, spinning slowly in place and trying to get the measure of her location. It was small, as rooms go, windowless but for a tiny square nestled in the wall opposite of her, and, worst at all, was painted a horrible pastel peach. After the vibrancy she had come to expect from Wonderland, Alice was horrified by the muted color. "Eugh," she muttered under her breath, flicking her eyes from the walls to the furniture to seek a respite from the agonizing décor. She found none, however, for the sofa and chairs were all stiff and formal, and exuded such an aura of inhospitality that she actually took a step back.

"Where _am _I?" she wondered aloud, passing a hand over her eyes. As grateful as she was to be liberated from the shivering, soggy mess of humanity she had been seemingly moments before, and as commonplace as disappearing from one place and reappearing in another had become for her, Alice nevertheless preferred to know at least the general details of her location.

She had all but ruled out Wonderland as a possibility; this new place simply did not feel the same to her.

"Alice? Is that you?" Footsteps clicked with crisp precision on the wooden floor, and a stern-looking woman stepped into view. Her hair, once blonde, was now steely grey with age, and done up in a severe bun. Her face was drawn up into a ferocious frown, and her eyes met Alice's in a ferocious scowl.

Alice blinked. Her mouth opened of its own accord, and then closed. She blinked again. "M—Mother?" The word slipped from her lips with incredulity. It _couldn't _be her mother. Her mother was in England. Alice was in Wonderland. This was _impossible_.

The woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Who else?" Her voice was irritated. "Alice, you were supposed to be ready to leave an hour ago." She waved an irritable hand at her daughter. "Quickly, now, put on your hat and come with me."

Poor Alice was confused beyond belief. Hadn't she just been in Wonderland? Wasn't she living with and in love with the Hatter? Hadn't she just had the fight of her life and left everything that she knew and loved behind?

What on earth was happening?

She took a hesitant step forward—no way better to find out than to ask. "Where are we going?" she inquired.

Her mother favored her with an irritated scowl. "Why, to your engagement party, of course," she said snippily. "An event we have been planning for weeks now and for which," she looked pointedly at a clock fixed on the wall behind Alice, "you are now fifteen minutes late."

"Engagement party?" Alice was horrified. "To whom am I engaged?" How could she be engaged? How was such a thing possible? She had been living in Wonderland for the past six years of her life; an engagement was impossible!

Impossible or not, though, she soon found herself being dragged to the elaborately decorated lawn of an enormous estate and presented to the most boring young man she had ever had the misfortune of meeting. He sat with evident lethargy at the head of a long table, and barely even blinked as Alice's mother hustled her daughter over to his side.

Lip curling with disdain, Alice stared down at the figure seated before her. "_This _is my fiancé?" She did not bother attempting to hide her disgust. The man at the head of the table was pallid and red-haired, two characteristics that combined to give him a feeble, washed-out appearance. It was quite obvious that he never spent a moment longer than was necessary outside, and equally apparent that he could care less about it.

Her snort of disapproval roused him from his stupor, and he slowly straightened from his slumped position. "Alice, darling," he said, retrieving her hand from her side and placing a sloppy kiss upon it. "You're late." For all his facial expression changed, her timing did not bother him in the least.

Wincing at the pitiful display from the seated scrap of humanity, Alice rescued her hand from his grasp and retreated a few feet, safely beyond his reach. Something about this pitiful man unnerved Alice, something more than his obvious ineptitude and spinelessness. She frowned and stared down at him, shaking her head disapprovingly as he met her glare with a wince and a slight twitch. Lips pursed, Alice tried to determine what it was about this man that bothered her so badly.

As she was forced to stand by and watch him drink his tea (pinky extended, of course), Alice realized what it was. Like a lightning bolt, the revelation struck her suddenly and without warning, rippling through her with an electric certainty.

_ He wasn't the Hatter._

The Hatter, who had been her friend and constant companion for going on seven years. The Hatter, who had forced her to live and love, to be and express herself. The Hatter was life itself, and this man had all the looks and personality of a soggy fish.

He was not the smiling, jovial, friendly face she had come to anticipate seeing. He was not lively, he was not sarcastic and witty and full of hidden surprise. In fact, he was everything that the Hatter _wasn't, _and that bothered her more than she would ever willingly admit to anyone.

The Hatter was rude and all but oozed impropriety. He was hyperactive and excitable and emotional to the extreme. He was creative and caring, eccentric and untamable.

She missed him terribly, and their argument had only been hours before.

"Oh, I'm such an inept, indecorous _idiot_!" she wailed, looking miserably up at the sky. "Why'd I have to go and ruin everything?"

"I'm sorry?" The feeble man before her looked at her with an expression of utmost confusion. Behind him, all of the party guests had frozen, and stood staring, mouths agape, at the distraught blonde at the head of the table.

Alice blushed and mumbled an embarrassed apology, sinking quietly back into her thoughts and obscurity. She inevitably returned to her comparison of this man and the Hatter, unable to turn her mind from all that she believed she had lost.

The Hatter was life. He was the sun that woke her up every morning and propelled her through the day. He was the moon that lit her nights and granted her peace of mind. He was everything to her, and she had simply thrown it all to the winds and left.

Biting her lip to keep from exclaiming again, Alice stared around the large lawn and took in all the details of her surroundings—best to familiarize oneself with one's punishment.

_This_ man, the poor, pathetic individual whom she was seemingly doomed to marry, was muted and dull. He was two-dimensional and shallow, a shadow of Wonderland and its inhabitants—highly ironic, since Alice currently stood in the "real world."

That was her problem, though. This world didn't _feel _real. Her home—her native England—was no longer her home; Wonderland was her home, whether she was there or not. The shift had occurred many years before, she realized now, looking at the pitiful excuse of an engagement party, but it had taken her until now to acknowledge that fact.

"I want to go home," she murmured, closing her eyes and desperately pretending she was _back _in that storm, that she was still huddled in the rain and overflowing with irritation and fury. At least if she were there she would be where she belonged. She would have the Hatter, if she could resolve their argument. She would have security, and life, and excitement. She would have love and understanding. She would have him, and thus she would have herself.

"Alice!" Her mother's voice was loud in her ear, and Alice jerked back to her current reality, blinking in the muted sunlight. "It's time for the meal!"

Without saying a word, Alice turned and trudged to her place at the table, scuffing her feet and taking as much time as possible. She did not want to be here, could not imagine that she had once despaired at leaving. As these thoughts passed through her head, she stumbled and fell forward to meet the ground, arms extended. She fell rather slowly, she thought as she arced towards the ground, watching the grass fly forward to meet her. Screwing her eyes closed, she braced for the impact that never came.

With a gasp, Alice awoke to the uncomfortable sensation of being jostled up and down. Blinking, she stared blearily around, attempting to reorient herself. The sight of the bright blue sky above left her befuddled, her eyes clouded with confusion. Where was she now? Clearly not in England—the brightness of her surroundings guaranteed _that_. However, it had been nighttime and storming when consciousness had finally escaped her, while the sky now above her showed every promise of developing into a shining summer day.

Slowly, her senses filtered back to her, and she realized that she was snugly secured in a strong grasp of unknown origin. She also realized that she was sopping wet, and bone-chillingly cold despite the season. Her clothes were saturated with water, her hair sodden and lank. Goosebumps dotted her exposed skin even as she could feel the sun-kissed warmth from the arms of whoever held her. In a panic, she flung her head about in a weak but desperate attempt to glean the identity of her captor.

As he sensed her discomfort, the owner of the white-gloved hands that held her tightened his grasp to keep her from slipping. "Peace, love." The Hatter kept his voice low in an effort not to startle her. "I've got you."

At the sound of a friendly voice—_his_ voice—Alice relaxed, all of the adrenaline draining from her body in a sudden rush, leaving her limp in the Hatter's arms. After the previous day, such a statement should have alarmed Alice, should have been the stimulus for a fit of indignant rage. His words should have brought back memories of her earlier wrath, not infused her with the skin-tingling warmth that it did. She was just so _tired_.

And, her nightmare hadn't helped her mental exhaustion by presenting her with such a conflicting scene.

The Hatter picked up his pace, looking worriedly down at his groggy burden. "I've got you," he repeated. Alice allowed her head to relax against his chest, a distant part of her realizing that he was just as sodden as she. The logical part of her reminded her that he must have been out in the worst of the storm to have found her, and she smiled, snuggling into his damp vest. Wet as he was, irritating as he could be, he was _hers_.

"I'm glad," she whispered, sinking back into the oblivion of sleep.

When she next woke up, she was cocooned in blankets before a fiercely roaring fire. Warmth flowed through her, coursing through her veins from her head to her feet. Dimly, she recalled that it was supposed to be summer, and that there was no real reason for the fire to be lit. It felt so good, though, that Alice ignored her sense of logic and simply basked in its glow, silently regaining her bearings.

Beside her sat the Hatter. He had forgone his sodden overcoat and hat, and was reclining in the chair beside Alice's sofa, feet propped up on the coffee table, his posture giving the misleading sign that all was well. "Good morning, starshine," he chirped, giving her a cheeky grin and maintaining his cheerful charade.

Alice managed a weak smile in return, sitting up and casting aside some of her blankets. The warmth of the room, so welcome only moments before, was beginning to become overwhelming. She combed her mussed-up hair out of her eyes, blinking at her savior. "How long have I been out of it?" she mumbled, blearily looking about for a clock of some sort.

He tapped his fingers together. "Total?" he asked. "Close to twelve hours. It's been five hours since I got you home." He leaned in towards her and frowned, examining her from head to toe with a scrutinizing gaze. "How do you feel?"

Wiggling her toes experimentally, Alice took a mental inventory of her physical state. Nothing hurt, she was warm, all digits and limbs in working order… "I feel great," she declared, casting aside her blanket nest as a form of tangible evidence for her declaration.

The Hatter stood and began to pace. "Good," he said, the relief in his voice evident even though his face was turned from her.

He stopped and turned, his face a mangled web of emotion. "Look, Alice…" Never one to beat around the bush, he sighed and strode back and forth before her, wearing a divot in the rug before the fireplace. He knew what he wanted to say, but the cost it would have on his pride was immeasurable.

The Hatter had been a solitary figure for so long before Alice's arrival that his personality—dominant to begin with—had fermented and established itself as a prevailing component of his routine. He had lived for himself, before and even after Alice's return. To say what he now wanted to say was a severe blow to his independence, a betrayal of his inherent masculine pride.

His face mirrored his internal struggle, his mouth drawn into a thin line and his freckles standing out vividly on his cheeks. "I'm tired of fighting," he finally said. The words cost him, but once they were uttered they burst from his lips, escaping into the air with such a tangible aura of relief and confession that he sagged back against the wall after they were uttered. "I'm tired of fighting," he repeated softly, his eyes turned to the ground.

Conceding defeat—or compromise in general—was not his strong suit, and to back down before Alice was nearly intolerable. Their whole relationship revolved around their ever-entertaining struggle for independence and dominance, and to back down was a severe blow to his pride. He sank to the floor with his back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chin and arms wrapped tightly around his shins. "I want us to be normal again." The words, now released, burst forth like a torrent, flowing from his lips without any conscious effort on his part. "I want to hold you in my arms, wake up in the morning and see you beside me."

They were both proud people—they knew that. Fights were inevitable, and always had been. Hardly a day went by without some minor argument or another. Nothing in the past could ever rival the previous day's blow-up, though. Never, _never_, would the Hatter have imagined that Alice would actually leave, that she would pack up and just_ go_.

The simple memory of the event sent a sharp spike of pain through his heart, and he grimaced. The expression looked odd on his generally jovial face, the scowl displacing years of laugh lines with almost effortless ease. He and Alice annoyed each other. They got on each other's last nerve, argued and squabbled over minor discrepancies. He was immature, she mature; he made the mess, she was there to clean it up. That was how they were.

He loved it.

The Hatter looked imploringly up at Alice, who had managed to stand and stretch and was pacing back and forth on the rug, just as he had been mere moments before. His hands flexed compulsively, and he stared down at them for a long while. "I love you, Alice," he finally said. His blue eyes were filled with hurt as he turned them on her. "I know I can be a bit…unusual and irritating at times, but I love you. I wish you would let me."

It was the closest thing to an apology he had ever uttered, and Alice's steady pacing stopped as she absorbed his words. Yes, he could be "unusual and irritating." He went on expeditions to hunt for Swedish fish, he refused to bend in any way on any matter, he made her so _mad _sometimes—and she loved him, was completely and hopelessly in love with him.

Without warning, Alice turned towards the Hatter, her flaxen locks falling forward and hiding her face from his tormented gaze. "I…" Her fists clenched and then relaxed, fingers trembling. "I do love you." The words themselves were the easiest she had ever said. She knew he needed to hear them, and she had no problem uttering them, as they were completely and wholly the truth.

"Then what is the matter?" He stood in one fluid motion and walked over to her, peering intently into her face. "I know I'm irritating sometimes" (this was delivered with a slight grin) "but you have been wound so tightly lately. You made your feelings clear last night, but I desperately want to believe that your words were the result of some underlying issue." Gently, he coaxed her into his embrace, gingerly wrapping his arms around her and holding her against him as if she were a fragile package. "What is the matter, Alice?" he repeated, his embrace firm and unyielding and the most comforting thing she had known in weeks.

Blushing at the sudden attention, Alice hid her red face in his chest. "I don't know!" The muffled reply floated up to his ears, and he smiled, trailing one hand idly along her back.

"Do you ever?" he quipped.

Alice giggled despite herself, drawing back enough so that she could meet his eyes.

"There." A white-gloved hand reached up and traced the shaky smile. "That's what I want to see. That's what I should always see. I never want you to be unhappy, Alice. I never want you to be sad."

Alice said nothing in return, simply looking in his face with an expression that said everything her voice could not. They both knew such a reality was impossible, of course. They were at odds far too much for such a bold statement ever to be upheld, but the intentions were there, and they were true.

It was quiet in the house but for the distant ticking of a clock, and Alice and the Hatter stood for a long while in silence, frozen in their confused half-embrace.

"I do love you," Alice finally blurted, tilting her head so that she could meet his eyes, "so very much." She combed his erstwhile hair from his eyes with hands that shook. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else in my life, and it terrifies me. You have become my everything. You were my mother and father, my sister and brother. You are my companion and my friend, my best friend in the entire world—Wonderland and my home both. You are the only person I have ever loved in this manner, and…" Her voice grew softer, "You're the only person I ever will."

When he said nothing in return, she drew back, afraid that her words had insulted him.

That was the instant the Hatter sprang to life. He swept Alice back into his arms with a grand flourish, whirling about the room with her in his grasp. "Alice, dear, I live in absolute terror of your frightening personage," he confided with a broad wink and an extra twirl. "I've been scared of you ever since you waltzed back into my life all those years ago. I couldn't help but love you—first as that precocious, lost little child, and now as the stunning woman you are today." He paused and tipped an imaginary hat, realizing only after he began the gesture that his own was propped up against the opposite wall. "Ma chere, vous tue moi chaque jour."

By the end of this spiel, Alice's face was as red as a tomato. "You'd think I'd be used to such language by this point," she muttered, hiding her blush in his shirt.

"If you are ever used to me, there is something wrong," he teased. "As it stands, though, you've become quite a bit like me yourself-all this yelling and spontaneity and whatnot." Pursing his lips, he gave her an appraising look. "You'll not be so much like me that you _know_ me, though, right?"

Alice giggled. "You'll never be predictable," she promised.

His face broke into such a comic and overdramatic expression of relief that Alice burst out laughing, all traces of her anger dissolving into nothingness.

The Hatter hugged her tightly. "Nor will you be, I'm sure." He thought back to numerous instances where her behavior had been downright illogical and most un-Alice-like, and there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he added, "You seem to be developing more and more quirks, Alice, that remind me of someone..." He grinned outright as she twitched and looked down. "You'll be more me than me in no time! Why," he stepped back from her, dancing a little jig, "I may need to go ahead and make you a hat, just so we can match!"

Shuddering delicately, Alice shook her head. "I think not," she proclaimed. "My head is happy as it is now, unadorned by that towering monstrosity that you call a hat."

Pouting, the Hatter stooped to retrieve said article from the floor, perching it atop his wild, white mane of hair. "You don't like my hat?"

"On you? I love it." She nodded decisively, contemplating man and hat with a thoughtful gaze. "On me? It would be most unbecoming."

Of course, this did nothing but encourage the Hatter, and one hop, skip, and a jump later and his hat found itself resting on Alice's blonde locks. The brim came down well over her eyes, and she pushed it up to level an irritable glare at him. "You see what I mean?"

The Hatter took no notice of her grumpy mien. He was enamored, gazing at Alice with such obvious adoration that she blushed and allowed the hat to flop back over her eyes so that she might avoid the intensity of his gaze. "It is perfect," he announced. "_You're_ perfect."

Suddenly the hat was gone from Alice's head, whisked away by well-meaning hands and returned to its rightful perch. Tilting her chin up so that her eyes met his, the Hatter looked down at Alice seriously. "I love you, Alice." It was a declaration, a promise. "I will always love you, regardless of any fights that we might—and will—have. Promise me that no matter what, no matter how we both might feel and act in our anger, promise me that you'll never leave me. I need you; I can't live without you."

It was the softest Alice had ever heard him speak, his voice little more than a whisper and laced with such dependence and longing that she was embarrassed. He had never shown such weakness around her, always playing the part of rambunctious jester. His words lit a fire within her, infused her with a myriad of emotions. They comforted her—she would always be needed. They promised her—she would always be loved.

They reassured her—she wasn't the only one.

"I'll stay," she promised. Memories of her earlier dream were not far off, and she fervently and repeatedly rejoiced that such a reality could never be. "I'll stay forever." The words were more than a simple assurance, more than a promise. They were a bond, a pact between two people who needed each other more than any other thing in the world.

The Hatter exhaled, all of the tension he had been hiding escaping his body in a great gust of air. "I had hoped you would." His lips sought hers, and they embraced for a long time, standing in the colorful, open room beneath rays of the bright Wonderland sun.

Some days later, they were out in the yard enjoying the lingering vestiges of a warm summer afternoon. Alice sat at a small table, a teacup in her hand and a book in her lap, and the Hatter perched in a low-hanging tree, his bare feet dangling from the extended branch.

"I've been thinking..." His drawling voice carried across the yard to Alice's ears, and she put aside her book with a sigh; such an introduction rarely yielded reading time.

"A dangerous pastime for you," she teased.

He nodded in agreement. "And don't you forget it! Anyway, as I said, I've been thinking. About _you_, in fact."

An eyebrow rose. "Me? Whatever could you be thinking about me?"

He hooked his legs tightly around the branch and swung down so that he was looking at Alice upside-down, dangling from the branch like a gymnast from a trapeze. "About your birthday, specifically," he said.

Alice was puzzled. "What about it, exactly?"

Pumping his legs, he swung back and forth, the ends of the branches shaking with the movement. "Well," he said, in between swings, "you'll be eighteen this year, won't you? In Wonderland—and in England, I believe—eighteen is the age that you cease to be even remotely considered a child. At eighteen, you are legally independent and such."

Alice drummed her fingers on the table. That much was certainly true. Were she in England, she would be a legal adult, for all the freedom it would have given her. She hadn't even considered that the same rules still applied in Wonderland. "And?" she asked.

"And," he gave her a pointed look and flipped gracefully from the branch, landing with both feet firmly on the ground, "that means that you'll never be a child. You'll stop having fun. You'll change, lose part of your Alice-ness." He frowned. "You'll grow up."

Alice could see a gaping hole in this logic. "_You're _clearly older than eighteen," she pointed out. "I don't see _you_ forgetting what it is like to be a child."

"It's different for me." He dismissed her argument with a wave of his hand. "I'm designed to be a perpetual child. It's in my nature; I stopped growing up well before I started having my unbirthdays. Plus, I was born in Wonderland."

Born in Wonderland? Alice frowned. "Where you were born has something to do with growing up?" she asked.

The Hatter came to stand beside her. "Certainly. You come from a world where, forgive me, adults do not believe in the impossible. Everything is explained by reason or not explained at all—and therefore inexistent. So, you turn eighteen in a place that does not exist, you cease to believe in it, and then at best you simply become a typical adult."

"At best?"

His mouth thinned into a worried line. "At worst, _you_ cease to exist."

Alice's mouth parted in surprise. "You know this for certain?" she asked, hoping he was simply speaking from speculation.

"Unfortunately, yes. I've been wondering about the effects of your aging for a long time, so I went to see the Caterpillar recently, and he had quite a bit of light to shed on the situation." He looked at her with sad eyes. "If you allow yourself to fully grow up, I'll lose you."

Alice reeled. She had all but forgotten the age-related quirks of Wonderland, had allowed birthday after birthday to pass with a simple, solitary celebration and the recognition of the fact that she was another year older. She had not stopped to think about what she would do when she caught up with the Hatter, had not considered that she might grow up forever.

"Growing up" had always been a frightening concept, from that first trip to Wonderland and even before. Yes, she loved order and reason, but she also loved the irrational and fantastic. She always had. Her youth in England had attempted to quell this love, had attempted to eradicate all traces of what Alice was meant to be—but Wonderland had intervened.

For Alice, the idea of growing up was of becoming independent, of being her own person free to make her own decisions. Because society had so dictated, she had always associated such freedom with coming of age, deluding herself as a child that all of her obedience to society could be cast aside as soon as she was old enough to be an "adult."

The Hatter watched her think. He knew growing up meant a lot to her, knew her headstrong mentality and independent nature drove her to strive for the age of independence. He had watched her mature year after year, witnessed her transformation into the intelligent, beautiful young woman who now stood before him. He knew she had made reaching adulthood her goal—which is why he knew he had to let her go.

Despite the pain it would cause him, despite the fact that he would lose everything that mattered, the Hatter was willing to allow Alice to grow up if she wanted to.

Alice thought of all of the fun she had had in Wonderland, remembered all of the food fights and tea parties and games and adventure that she had experienced-all of the childish good times. She thought of the Hatter, and how much she loved him. She cast a long look back at the Hatter's house, thought of the room upstairs that was all hers, shuffled through memory after memory of trips she—and only she—had made throughout Wonderland.

Decided in her course of action, Alice nodded resolutely. Her mind was made up.

The Hatter watched as Alice's eyes shone with some unidentifiable emotion, watched as she smiled and finally turned to face him. Heart heavy, he awaited the news that she would grow up, that she valued her so-called independence more than she did her childhood—more than she did him.

"I have decided," she said slowly, "that you should throw me a party."

"A party?" The Hatter was briefly confused. Then he nodded dejectedly. "Oh, of course. You mean a birthday party." He had sworn off of them a long time ago, had not attended one in over a century, in fact. For Alice, though, as much as it pained him, he would make an exception. "You want me to throw you a birthday party?"

Slowly, Alice shook her head, a smile budding at her lips. "Not a birthday party," she said. "And, to be quite honest, I've never had a party of this particular sort before, so without your expertise I'm doomed."

"Not a-?" His head tilted to the side as he thought. "Then what kind of party..." His eyes lit up suddenly, gleaming a brighter blue than Alice had ever seen. "An unbirthday party?" he asked, voice cracking with excitement. "You want me to throw you an _un_birthdayparty?"

Alice beamed at him. "I do."

"Oh, Alice!" He threw his arms around her waist and buried his head in her shoulder. "I'm so happy! I thought you were going to grow up completely, that you were going to leave me!"

She poked him on the forehead. "I promised, didn't I?"

He regained his composure, stepping back and straightening his hat with a flourish. "That you did." He all but shook with excitement. "An unbirthday party—your very first! We'll have to make quite the occasion of it, invite everyone in the neighborhood..." His mind whirled with plans.

Holding her hands out in surrender, Alice stepped towards him. "I leave it all in your hands," she told him solemnly, "as long as there's cake."

He cackled, eyes alight with glee. "Cake? My dear, you'll have seven kinds of cake! We'll have trifles, puddings, scones, pies—anything your heart desires!" He swept down upon her and planted a big kiss on her lips. "I love you, Alice, so very much."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I love you too," she said. "I don't need to be an 'adult' to be an adult. I'm completely independent now as it is, and I never want to forget what it means to be a child. That would mean forgetting you."

Leaning up for another kiss, she closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his lips against hers, in the love he expressed. He was her home, her independence, just as she was his.

She kept him an adult, he kept her a child.

Together, in love, they were and forever would be children at heart.

* * *

And, in the words of many an old French film, fin.


End file.
